IMPULSE

You can count on anything, but you can’t count on impulse.
You can’t even count on the mechanical impulse for money
and motor-cars
which rules the robot-classes and the robot-masses, now.

Once disillusion falls on living men, and they feel the illusion
ebb away
the illusion of mankind, the illusion of a hopeful future for
these masses and classes of men
once disillusion falls on living men, and illusion of brotherhood
and hope bleeds right away,

Then, then comes the great moment of choice.
Oh, life is nothing if not choice.
And that which is choice alone matters.

In the moment of choice, the soul rolls back
away from the robot-classes and the robot-masses
and withdraws itself, and recognises a flower, or the morning- star
but utterly fails to recognise any more the grey rat-hordes of
classes and masses.
And then, when the soul of living men repudiates them
then at once the impulse of the greedy classes and masses
breaks down.
and a chaos of impulse supervenes
in which is heard the crashing splinter of machines
and the dull breaking of bones.

For the robot classes and masses are only kept sane
by the kindness of living women and men.

Now living women and men are threatened with extinction
and the time has come to cease to be kind any more
to the robot classes and masses.

Oh, if the huge tree dies
save some shoots, some lovely flowering shoots
to graft on another tree.

Trees raised from seed have wild and bitter fruits
they need grafting:
and even the loveliest flowers, you must graft them on a new stock.