There are no gods

 

	 
	There are no gods, and you can please yourself
	have a game of tennis, go out in the car, do some shopping, sit and talk, talk, talk
	with a cigarette browning your fingers.
	 
	There are no gods, and you can please yourself —
	go and please yourself —
	 
	But leave me alone, leave me alone, to myself!
	and then in the room, whose is the presence
	that makes the air so still and lovely to me?
	 
	Who is it that softly touches the sides of my breast
	and touches me over the heart
	so that my heart beats soothed, soothed, soothed and at peace?
	 
	Who is it smooths the bed-sheets like the cool
	smooth ocean where the fishes rest on edge
	in their own dream?
	 
	Who is it that clasps and kneads my naked feet, till they unfold,
	till all is well, till all is utterly well? the lotus-lilies of the feet!
	 
	I tell you, it is no woman, it is no man, for I am alone.
	And I fall asleep with the gods, the gods
	that are not, or that are
	according to the soul's desire,
	like a pool into which we plunge, or do not plunge.

	D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930)

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