When we get out of the glass bottles of our ego,
when we escape like squirrels turning in the cages of our personality
and get into the forests again,
we shall shiver with cold and fright
but things will happen to us so that we do not know ourselves.
Cool, unlying life will rush in,
passion will make our bodies taut with power,
we shall stamp our feet with new power and old things will fall down,
we shall laugh, and institutions will curl up like burnt paper.
DH Lawrence
2 comments:
Still cold here too - though we had snow overnight which turned to rain so we didn't have to drive through, very convenient.
Thank you so much for introducing me to this poem!
With its beautiful accompanying photo of snowy woods.
jawbone
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