The morning comes,
the night decays,
the watchmen leave their stations;
The grave is burst, the spices shed, the linen wrapped up;
The bones of death, the cov'ring clay, the sinews shrunk & dry'd
Reviving shake, inspiring move,
Spring like redeemed captives when their bonds & bars are burst.
Let the slave grinding at the mill run out into the field,
Let him look up into the heavens & laugh in the bright air;
Let the inchained soul,
shut up in darkness and in sighing,
Whose face has never seen a smile in thirty weary years,
Rise and look out;
his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are open;
And let his wife and children return from the oppressor's scourge.
They look behind at every step & believe it is a dream,
Singing: "The Sun has left his blackness & has found a
And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear & cloudless night;
For Empire is no more,
and now the Lion & Wolf shall cease."
Excerpt from "America: A Prophecy" by William Blake
All photos from Ffffound!
This has become the year to confront my ghosts.
I just didn't know that I'd have to confront them all in the same week. ..