Join for FREE | Take the Tour Lost Password?
Shop deviantART for the
holidays and save BIG!
Click here! :holly:
[x]

deviantART

:woohoo:
 

Auguries of Innocence - Blake

Sun Sep 23, 2007, 7:04 AM
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

  • Mood: Love
  • Listening to: the drums of dilemma
  • Reading: my mind
  • Watching: the world spinning
  • Playing: mind games
  • Eating: air
  • Drinking: water

Way of the Warrior

Wed Jan 24, 2007, 10:39 PM
"The Way of the warrior does not include other Ways, such as Confucianism, Buddhism, certain traditions, artistic accomplishments or dancing. But even though these are not part of the Way, if you know the Way broadly you will see it in everything. Men must polish their particular Way." - Musashi

  • Mood: Love
  • Listening to: the sound of silence
  • Reading: my mind
  • Watching: the world spinning
  • Playing: mind games
  • Eating: air
  • Drinking: water

The Void

Wed Jan 24, 2007, 10:37 PM
"It is the void in us that nurses our deeper sorrow, yet it is also the void which carves our soul to form and fashions our destiny."

The void is no mere emptiness, but is real, free and existing. It is the source from which all things arise and return. It cannot be seen, touched or known, yet it exists and is freely used. It has no shape, size, colour or form, and yet all that we see, hear, feel and touch is "it". It is beyond intellectual knowing and cannot be grasped by the ordinary mind. When we suddenly awake to the realization that there is no barrier, and has never been seen, one realizes that one is all things, mountains, rivers, grasses, trees, sun, moon, stars, universe are all oneself. There is no longer a division or barrier between myself and others, no longer any feeling of alienation or fear. Realizing this, results in true compassion. Other people and things are not seen as apart from oneself, on the contrary, as one's own body. - Bruce Lee

  • Mood: Love
  • Listening to: the sound of silence
  • Reading: my mind
  • Watching: the world spinning
  • Playing: mind games
  • Eating: air
  • Drinking: water

Believe In Not

Wed Jan 24, 2007, 10:35 PM
Do Not Believe in the strength of Tradition
Even if they have been held
In honor for many Generations and many Places
Do not Believe Anything because many people speak of it
Do not Believe in the strength of the Sages of old times
Do not Believe that which You yourself have imagined
Thinking that a God has inspired you.
Believe nothing which depends only on Authority of
Your Master or of Priests
After Investigation, Believe That Which
You yourself have Tested and found Reasonable,
And which is for Your Good and that of Others.

-- Gautam Buddha

  • Mood: Love
  • Listening to: the sound of silence
  • Reading: my mind
  • Watching: rocky balboa
  • Playing: mind games
  • Eating: biryani
  • Drinking: water

Journal History

Site Map