Conscience of the world



Being coincides with its perception
and seems to exclude any test description.

Everything else is internal, so to speak,
by a subsequent game and rooting.

Being seen is not without conflicts of exteriority,
while its cohesion is the so-called inside.

The world is, we say, as we are,
and it is through this initial ambivalence to be
the fixtures and trade express.

We are in the end be without the world
but not by contact and a meeting:
because it could be split if it was one still.

The world we be such, and we say this world
but the relations of production and expression are insisting,
grafted onto the diaphragm of life alive.

[transplant without actor, seamless operation
initial ambivalence is also familiar]

There are both all strata, all covered --
and yet a kind of extreme poverty: finitude.

A constant theft to be becoming, having
content, be-tel, have been able to be --
all mock spontaneous exist - m'occultent.

There is a being, although the unit is fiction.

The very being, as an idea, is abstraction gross
of all becomings, and became matrix.

But even if it can be thought point, is
middle of our unwavering experience naked
the factual consistencies coupled with chaos.

Being that I am, and thought that I believe
ideational double counting of my life,
this philosophy that seeks to understand and link
their terms, their fluidity time.

However, the link is not a third term,
rather, his strength allowed, it shows that the terms
labile and are engaged in a circular formation.

Grasping just assumed that I am, my body
live and work, whether in the world and one remote.

In a sense, I feel my body being collected.

Is this like me to be, think?
Are they not two different abstract of what I see?

The fact that I perceive that there perception is the spirit.

If the viewer is the body, while paradoxically
monism is obvious because he feels and thinks,
and is the world and the "spirit" would be one of its acts.

But if the spectator was "something else", or not much,
on the same jet pose a more full-Being.

There is still a fractured tier impossible, fractal.

The energy and denies itself the distance with failure.
All my actions are initiated by a body that escapes me.

The completeness is a business, not perfection.
What there has to be perfect and no other
then it is unthinkable to give meaning net.

Everything that exists is free from reality and me.

Why pain and finitude - and interrogation
- As if being was through the duty-being.

What is this appearance, and what this body
a world which is outlined, suddenly raised already,
always already formed, always secure and precedence?

If the world is an infinite amount of events,
its reality is always local and subjectivity --
The operation, current bodies active
body is its only basis, its own body.

"The feelings of all kinds are and remain
an event of the body itself, simply as
such in the subcutaneous region ... there is something
in any objective. "(PRS Schopenhauer IV § 21 p60)