“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I was untouched ten years ago,
By love and even pain.
The world touched me or touched me not.
To me it was the same.

See the wide world circus spread
Upon the earth’s great sacred ground.
The masks at midnight tumble down
And the great stone faces stare.

No magic then will move our blood,
Nor moonlight rush through brittle bone.
Then let us plunge while there is time
Through worlds to look back upon.

A small household tragedy, the death of a cat, yet to me it contained the question of the uniqueness of life and the value of consciousness. Didn’t anyone or anything care that one cat had died? I felt guilty even considering the question. In a world where humans slaughtered their own kind constantly, who in their right mind would give a moment’s thought to a cat’s consciousness? Yet either all life was sacred, or none of it was. So I brooded.