|Ancient of Days - Wm. Blake|
mansion; driven out in dismal torment and bended down,
he sought solace in the harlot's false virginity.
The Trump of doom wraps itself in the harlot's womb, until
charity become injury; generosity a science by which men
grow rich, and empires rise and fall, and rise again.
The villain preaches abstinence, consumed by devilish hands;
dignitary of a demon soul, trapped in finite revolutions, sentenced
to an uncertain future on this, our Alcatraz.
Awaken, thunders of the deep, lovers of wild rebellion, let us
laugh at war, and take refuge from our oppressors and
revel in this finite wall of flesh.
Man became a transgressor of gods. No more let us follow;
no more obedience pay. Empires of blasphemy rise from
bright ruins, and God, the tyrant, died.
Morning comes, the starry night decays, the watchmen
leave their stations. My lover lingers, the Earth trembles
beneath, howling across centuries long unraveled,
A ray of darkness glittering along the time-space continuum,
dancing the spiral of infinity.
-with apologies to William Blake.