As much a mystery as how we came
To be as conscious as we are, and know
Ourselves as knowers, is the very flame
Of life itself, how it may come and go:
And when it goes, does it go darkly out
Or elsewhere, where it lives eternally?
Is there some way to settle all such doubt
And come to existential certainty?
The gnosis of such knowing would transcend
What’s physical and secular and clear,
The ordinary ways we comprehend,
And take us to where miracles appear:
Call it the twilight zone of consciousness,
Where rhyme meets reason with astute success.