In a building, each apartment, even though it is depending on the overall structure for its water, gas and electricity supplies, operates in a somewhat separate manner.
It is not essential that units communicate with each other, each has its professional environment, its own existence register, its language, each a number of household members, each child their personality, each apartment has its own life pulse rate.
Some apartments have their lights on, others don’t.
On certain floors, nothing seems to happen,
On others, all twinkling lights can give the illusion that on the contrary, many things are happening.
The building is the consciousness,
A building with a thousand floors,
A tree, a ship, a city, a country,
One planet, all living beings,
In me, every moment.
In posture, insights are arranged in tectonic, tiny or massive, slow or brutal movements,
Infinite and marvelous,
Mostly unnoticed,
Layers of consciousness align.
In the span of their uncountable axes,
Under my eye,
Alternately amazed, haggard
Or asleep.
©FJ Jan 23
Notes & Silence 
So all are part of a universal consciousness, and the individual a discrete package at most. The cosmos dreams.
J’aimeAimé par 1 personne