Space  of  Course  is Alive

The universe flows in infinite wild streams.

The earth leans its weight on the sun, and the sun on the sun of suns.

Back and forth goes the balance and the electric breath.

The soul of man also leans towards the sun of suns,

back and forth goes the breath of incipient energetic life.

If you will go down into yourself, under your surface personality,

you will find you have a great desire to drink life direct from the source.

Life from the source, unadulterated.

Contact with the sun of suns

that shines somewhere in the atom, somewhere pivots the curved space.

The cool, cool truth of pure vitality,

pouring into the veins from the direct contact with the source.

Space, of course, is alive;

that’s why it moves about;

and that’s what makes it eternally spacious and unstuffy.

And somewhere it has a wild heart

that sends pulses even through me;

and I call it the sun;

and I feel aristocratic, noble, when I feel a pulse go through me

from the wild heart of space, that I call the sun of suns.

And I feel aristocratic, noble, when I feel a pulse go through me

from the wild heart of space, that I call the sun of suns.

 

To be an aristocrat of the sun

you don’t need one single social inferior to exalt you;

you draw your nobility direct from the sun;

let other people be what they may.

I am that I am, from the sun,

and people are not my measure.

All I care about in a man is that unbroken spark in him

where he is himself undauntedly.

And all I want is to see the spark flicker vivid and clean.

I love the sun in any man

when I see it between his brows

clear, and fearless, even if tiny.

Perhaps, if we started right, all children could grow up sunny and sun aristocrats.

Men should group themselves into a new order of sun-men.

Each one turning his breast straight to the sun of suns

in the center of all things,

and from his own little inward sun

nodding to the great one.

And receiving from the great one his strength and his promptings,

walking each in his own sun-glory.

And how wonderful it would be if some women came forward and said:

We are sun-women!

We belong neither to men nor our children nor even ourselves 

but to the sun.

And how delicious it is to feel the sunshine upon one!

And how delicious to open like a marigold

when a man comes looking down upon one

with sun in his face, so that a woman cannot but open

like a marigold to the sun,

and thrill with glittering rays.

Conscience

is sun awareness

and our deep instinct

not to go against the sun.

adapted from the poetry of D. H Lawrence