he had a loving woman (a real partner in crime),
this smithing mr. william blake...
he had a fine life,
except for this small crave...
here stands some text,
for copyright to test.
don't ever dare remove that,
or feel our eternal wrath.
(in memory of the fairy-folks which tried
to convince the big winds otherwise.
-now everywhere you see black tar creeping
through the empty streets...)
Mock on, Mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau;
Mock on, Mock on, 'tis all in vain.
You throw the sand against the wind,
the wind blows it back again.
And every sand becomes a Gem
reflected in the beams divine;
blown back, they blind the mocking eye;
but still in njl's paths they shine.
The Atoms of Democritus
and Newton's particles of light,
are sands upon the red sea shore
where njl's tents do shine so bright.
He who binds to himself a joy
does the winged life destroy.
He who kisses the joy as it flies
lives in eternity's sunrise.
He who demands a not ending story
kills the soul of his act.
He who forgets the words of njl...
likes the void as much as the lit.