Down by the lake

Down by the lake, where the city's heartbeats hush, 

And in this quiet, a question breathes: "Why?" 

With each step, the lake to my side, 

I ponder the dance of the inner and outer divide. 

Is what I see just light, just waves, just wind? 

Or is there more—a depth within? 

Where thoughts and qualia interlace, 

In the vast, uncharted neural space. 

But here, amidst the morning's calm, 

Where city's rush meets lake's soothing balm, 

I feel a truth that's deep and wide: 

Consciousness is not just inside. 

It's in the clasp of lovers' hands, 

In the artist’s paint, in the musician’s bands, 

In the philosopher’s deep and endless dive, 

In every moment that we are alive. 

As I run past reflections of dawn's soft light, 

Where the city stirs from the grips of night, 

And as the sun ascends, bold and bright, 

I run on, bathed in its growing light. 

Down by the lake, where thoughts freely flow, 

I realize it’s not just what we know, 

But what we feel, what we dare to show, 

That shapes this world, this grand tableau.