Thought is a seeking of satisfaction within thought, which means a seeking of coincidence with itself. Thought is thus an embodied desire but the desire comes from outside of thought. Only if thought is conscious - in consciousness, as we imprecisely say - does it feel like a desire, does it express the striving to be complete in itself. Take away consciousness and thought falls into a passive heap, like words on a page with no reader. A book of philosophy does not philosophise, but what use is such a book if it does not prompt philosophising in the mind of a reader. Who or what is the reader, the thinker of the thought? It cannot read itself, but you might say that it reads its reader while it is being read. This is about the relation of thought to consciousness. Consciousness has no needs and yet it produces needs in thought or in experience, which are themselves nothing but consciousness. It doesn't take form but it is the forms which it takes as thought, forms which are always imperfect in that they strive for the condition of their sole condition. Push thought until its logic breaks down which forces it to pause so that something can flash before the eye of the mind, something that is the mind flashing before its own eyes. To say that consciousness is the substrate of thought is only a thought, far short of what it wants to say, so keep on pushing until it breaks, bending over itself to meet itself before it started. Thought is the infant babbling of the non-thought that is consciousness doing thinking. Consciousness coincides with itself in thought's failure to coincide with itself.