Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Happy Second Day of the Writing, 2015

Los is by mortals nam'd Time, Enitharmon is nam'd Space:

But they depict him bald & aged who is in eternal youth

All powerful and his looks flourish like the brows of morning:

He is the Spirit of Prophecy, the ever apparent Elias.

Time is the mercy of Eternity; without Time's swiftness.

Which is the swiftest of all things, all were eternal torment.

All the Gods of the Kingdoms of Earth labour in Los's Halls:

Every one is a fallen Son of the Spirit of Prophecy:

He is the Fourth Zoa that stood around the Throne Divine.

--William Blake, Milton




And this is the manner of the Sons of Albion in their strength;

They take the Two Contraries which are calld Qualities, with which

Every Substance is clothed, they name them Good & Evil,

From them they make an Abstract, which is a Negation

Not only of the Substance from which it is derived,

A murderer of its own Body : but also a murderer

Of every Divine Member: it is the Reasoning Power,

An Abstract objecting power, that Negatives every thing.

This is the Spectre of Man: the Holy Reasoning Power,

And in its Holiness is closed the Abomination of Desolation.


Therefore Los stands in London building Golgonooza,

Compelling his Spectre to labours mighty; trembling in fear

The Spectre weeps, but Los unmov'd by tears or threats remains.


I must Create a System, or be enslav'd by another Man's

I will not Reason & Compare: my business is to Create.


So Los, in fury & strength: in indignation & burning wrath

Shudd'ring the Spectre howls, his howlings terrify the night.

He stamps around the Anvil, beating blows of stern despair,

He curses Heaven & Earth, Day & Night & Sun & Moon,

He curses Forest Spring & River, Desart & sandy Waste,

Cities & Nations, Families & Peoples, Tongues & Laws,

Driven to desperation by Los's terrors & threat'ning fears.


Los cries, Obey my voice & never deviate from my will

And I will be merciful to thee: be thou invisible to all

To whom I make thee invisible, but chief to my own Children,

O Spectre of Urthona: Reason not against their dear approach

Nor them obstruct with thy temptations of doubt & despair;

O Shame, O strong & mighty Shame I break thy brazen fetters;

If thou refuse, thy present torments will seem southern breezes

To what thou shalt endure if thou obey not my great will.


--William Blake, Jerusalem

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