Sunday, 22 August 2010

Poem for the muse

The flint is struck, the fuse is lit
They cannot know the why of it
Nor how by Blake's immortal hands
Twas set, no reason understands

The fiery God can shine no light
As deep as love nor e'er so bright
As shadows fall by reason's dial
In darkness we are drunk awhile

Now words drop careless golden sands
Of dreams escaping sieve-like hands
But none til death can ever rest
Save honouring life's noblest quest.

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