Folly

Winds of change billow a heavy veil.

Between seed of all dreams

rising nebulous

from sleep's mossed pillow

and daylight's surfactant,

cumulative conjecture;

truth,

mutable and vast,

coalesces with dancing chaos.

Blake is timeless in the midst of his rapture and

visions held one there,

ensuring their remembrance:

forget-me-nots in the void;

the soul incubate in the matrix

became ephemera,

a sigh echoing through eternity.

As the fleshy inimitable is surrounded

by wise mother of pearl

the wild hunt's quarry is revealed

to be folly itself

and this sacred night

holds a sounding of those horns.