Consciousness

Left right, left right, left right, Do I keep pace with my existential self? I think I see me as I am, But in reverse, of course, a micro Second late. And my nostalgic Self continuously flows Back into an ever changing Past where, modified by experience, Memories bloom as nebulae In the vast regions of space Littered with the frail debris Of my acts. And what of this, The present impasse where consciousness, Apparent choice prevail? Is it real? Or just some sleep-walk In a self deluded trance? Come out! Come out! My so-called soul, Wherever you are, if you exist At all, unconscious trigger Unseen puppeteer, for whom My conscious self may act As mouthpiece and a dummy exhibiting Convincing signs of life.