My Conscious and Unconscious Selves
by John Herlihy
I take my unconscious wherever I may go,
There deep inside, with no one else around.
Harboring wisdom I never know that I know,
Never utters a peep, only a soundless sound.
We place great value at what lies conscious,
A ready knowledge always comes to the fore.
But what mysteries lie within the unconscious,
Hidden knowledge ready to manifest and more.
The unconscious a human faculty forever ready,
A hidden well that quietly lies in the desert within.
Ever present and always constant, never unsteady,
Never left empty, and yet never filled to the brim.
The conscious a lantern revealing light in the shadows,
The unconscious a forest that lies beyond the meadows.
The conscious as a spoken word that is readily heard,
The unconscious as arcane and silent as a sleeping bird.
The conscious as aa pebble that from a river takes shape,
The unconscious as a river that gives the pebble its shape.
The conscious as the day that is surrounded by the night,
The unconscious as the night that is surrounded by the day.
The conscious as words, the unconscious an old tongue,
The conscious a tolling bell, the unconscious a bell unrung.
The conscious remembers, the unconscious never forgets,
The conscious with its hopes, the unconscious no regrets.
We live in rooms lit, the unconscious an entire house unlit,
A garden in daylight vs a vast ocean expanse in the night.
The conscious an open window, the unconscious a sealed jar,
Life seen as approaching near, life seen from a distance far.
Neither one nor the other, but finding value in the two,
The conscious a path well worn, the unconscious unpaved.
The conscious living in a world of clearly spoken desires,
The unconscious living in a world with secretly held desires.
The conscious as a reservoir, simply waiting to be emptied;
The unconscious as a reservoir, simply waiting to be filled.
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Copyright © John Herlihy
Sunday 15 February 2026
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