LA TIGRE CUSTODIVA LO SCRIGNO IN CUI ERA RIPOSTA LA SINDONE DELL’AGNELLO – PICTOGRAMMI

LA TIGRE CUSTODIVA LO SCRIGNO IN CUI ERA RIPOSTA LA SINDONE DELL’AGNELLO

by gipictus Pro @ 2006-08-10 – 23:21:39

TIGER, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? What dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And water’d heaven with their tears,

Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

WILLIAM BLAKE

via LA TIGRE CUSTODIVA LO SCRIGNO IN CUI ERA RIPOSTA LA SINDONE DELL’AGNELLO – PICTOGRAMMI.

She pulled back the sheet to reveal a little of the inner fold of the ridge illiaca where he was pointing with a finger almost imperceptible movement of the drawing … and the stars fell from the sky … but it was not the end of the world. Why was the lamb who held the fate of the world. The bronze casket opened with the metallic clang of a gear Millennial fine. Came out golden butterflies that svaporarono to the ceiling to form a swirl and finally create an opening chopping the roof. Without any noise. Here the sky. Here’s the night. Here’s your life.

Written by the late Jorg.  I have not visited him lately in my mind nor heart.  It seems so much more convenient not to.  Yes, as i revisit his blog?  At first it was simply to painful. A blog I knew nothing about, now is all that remains. In my heart, i still believe I was not entirely off track to feel something mythically  deep for this somewhat stranger. Now, looking?  I see he was in fact very deep and quite inspirational. Seems his questions of life he asked already knew perhaps he did not entirely approve of this world?  I used to spend a lot of time with his spirits.  Now, I am finding it easier to be mad. Truth is that cancer simply leaves you with a pantheon of emotions.  Mostly why did his body have to exit?  He was much too young.  I wanted Jesus to heal him.  I wanted Mother Mary too.  I ask myself was his life of early cloister and holiness not leaving him a sitting duck to the tigers and the wolves. Perhaps he got tired of fear and opted to become the tiger and the wolf!

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