torsdag 15. mai 2014

You say I'm something more than a stone or a plant. You say: "You feel, you think, and you know that you think and feel. Do stones write poems ? Do plants have ideas about the world ?"


Yes, there's a difference,
But it's not the difference you suppose,
Because being conscious doesn't oblige me
To have theories about things;
It only obliges me to be conscious.

If I'm more than a stone or a plant ?
I don't know.
I'm different.
I don't know what more is or what less is.

Is being conscious more than being colourful ?
It might be or might not be.
I know only that it's different.
No one can prove that it's more than just different.
Or I can say it makes me inferior.
But I say nothing.
I say of the stone, "It's a stone."
I say of the plant, "It's a plant."
I say of myself, "It's me."
I say of the war and problems in the world, 
"It's not my problems."
And I say no more.
What more is there to say ?


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