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“Pentacostal” by D. H. Lawrence 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 (11 Sep 1885 – 2 Mar 1930)
Shall I tell you then how it is?
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There came a cloven gleam
Like a tongue of darkened flame
To burn in me.
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And so I seem
To have you still the same
In one world with me.
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In the flicker of a flower
In a worm that is blind yet strives
In the mouse that pauses to listen
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Glimmers our
Shadow as well and deprives
Them none of their glisten.
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In each shaken morsel
Our shadow trembles
As if it rippled from out of us hand in hand.
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We are part and parcel
In shadow nothing dissembles
Our darkened universe. You understand?
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For I have told you plainly how it is.