Wm Blake takes a compass to credulity

(In Praise of William Blake 

despite the odd detractor.) 

 

For he’s a jolly good fellow 

and so say all of us

which Nobodaddy can deny.

 

The Ancient of Days
by William Blake (1794)

 

Song for the Dying

Today, turning the street corner, I recognised the nonagenarian from the nursing home, bewildered where she’d stooped to stare shortsightedly at her own reflection in the smoked glass windshield of a kerbside car. 
     But when, with eager searching eye, she cried, ‘Is that you?’ and rapped on the window, the darkened glass failed to yield a reply.
     ‘A foolish mistake,’ I heard her sigh. ‘I was expecting to be fetched by an old friend.’ 
     She stifled uneasy laughter.

●

Death. Death. Apart too long.

Embrace me now and end my song.

Death. Death. Too long apart.

Embrace me now. Let us depart.

Death. Death. Apart too long.

Embrace me now and start my song.