consciousness.

they ponder their consciousness, how it flows, swells, and grows, how it converts oxygen into thought, into dreams and to hope, how it stretches and bends like snakes in the grass on a hot summers day when new knowledge and concepts are introduced, how it records data and experiences and transcends time and space, logic and sense, and yet it is all they are and all they have ever been, all they ever will be and in the end the only word we can use in this time and in this day when all the answers don’t come easily our way is ‘miracle’, a concept in itself not so readily understood, and here is the strangest of thoughts in all this, it’s that consciousness still does not understand it’s own self.