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29. Aug 2006

Terra Incognita

 
	 
	There are vast realms of consciousness still undreamed of
	vast ranges of experience, like the humming of unseen harps,
	we know nothing of, within us.

	Oh when man has escaped from the barbed-wire entanglement
	of his own ideas and his own mechanical devices
	there is a marvellous rich world of contact and sheer fluid beauty
	and fearless face-to-face awareness of now-naked life
	and me, and you, and other men and women
	and grapes, and ghouls, and ghosts and green moonlight
	and ruddy-orange limbs stirring the limbo
	of the unknown air, and eyes so soft
	softer than the space between the stars,
	and all things, and nothing, and being and not-being
	alternately palpitant,
	when at last we escape the barbed-wire enclosure
	of Know Thyself, knowing we can never know,
	we can but touch, and wonder, and ponder, and make our effort
	and dangle in a last fastidious fine delight
	as the fuchsia does, dangling her reckless drop
	of purple after so much putting forth
	and slow mounting marvel of a little tree.

	D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930)

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