Blake's Song

William.
You and I stood and spoke candidly
before your death.
We stood on cliff's edge
overseeing the masterful slavery of oysters
in the ocean.
We spoke in monochromatic color wheels
and turned every green blade to blue steel.
Equinamity rose and you took your hand
to mine,
painted a book running up my arm.
The last sentence made a declaration of Me
as Soul's inheritor
Soul's hierarchy
and at last spelled out the meaning of ------
just as you went to again dip your brush in ink,
God's breath blew you over the precipice.
You called to me the last words,
of smoke, and vapors;
the illusions of contemporary,
but again God's breath kicked up,
swallowed your words
as a starving infant meets a wet nurse's breast,
and you were gone.
I stood for eternity,
examing a grain of sand,
God's breath returned and tried to take me with you,
but I fought it, William,
with words of spite
and words of anger.
I fought it with the newly forged grass,
among a thousand allies,
an army of Me.
I screamed. I wept against the tyranny of God,
and his tears thundered,
but my tears roared.
My tears roared waves onto shores --
the sea swelled up to meet my backside,
and struck the wind to surrender.
We stood on cliff's edge,
God and I, speaking candidly of your death.
And the hand you held,
on the arm that you scribed,
reached
up.
I quelled, I shook, but
I nary spoke a word as I stepped aside
to let it do a soldier's duty
and pushed.