Through the veils of time and space,
William Blake’s visions grace,
With a pen that weaves the night,
Into realms of purest light.
In the forest of his dreams,
Angels dance and demons scheme,
Words like rivers, flowing free,
Painting worlds for all to see.
Innocence and experience blend,
In his lines, our souls transcend,
Mystical, profound, and true,
Blake’s spirit shines anew.
In his art, the heavens chime,
Songs of wisdom through all time,
Eternal whispers, softly sung,
By Blake’s undying, mystic tongue.