They say the stars have consciousness.
Do you think they dream? And what of? Do they search for us in the sky to wish upon?
I wonder how many of our midnight confessions they’re keeping secret.
They say the trees talk to each other.
Do they dance together in the monsoon? And do they tell stories to their children, passing down the secret of rebirth generation after generation?
I wonder how they decide who will lean this way or that when they spread their branches.
They say that everything has consciousness.
Do you think the mountains know this? Do they look down at us and marvel at our size? Do the stones wonder why we’d ever move beyond the cool of the lake?
I wonder if the soil hums lullabies to the seeds it cradles.
They say we’re each a point of the universe conscious of itself.
I wonder if the whales see like this when they praise the ocean in song. Do the birds watch me watching?
And what of the glass when it catches my reflection? Does she recognize herself?
I wonder sometimes if the rivers know how far they run. If the night sky could explain what beauty is for. Or if maybe, like me, they’re also searching for the truth hidden in the infinite space within.
They say there’s a reason we’re here.
To heal our souls. To end our suffering. To wake up the world. To embrace the process of our own awakening.
Maybe it’s only life itself that could really say for sure.
I’ve caught glimpses of it, I think. In dreams of flight and the return of the sun after a sleepless night. I wonder if one day I could put it into words that make any sense.
They say there are infinite other universes.
Maybe I am there now, talking with the bees and smiling at the truth of it all. I wonder if I’d wonder why I might ever need to ask.
(And they say not to pay attention to the things they say.)
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