I Must Create A System, Or Be

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.

Kill Not The Moth Nor Butterfly, For The Last Judgement Draweth Nigh.

Little Fly, Thy Summer's Play My Thoughtless Hand Has Brushed Away. Am Not I A Fly Like Thee? Or Art Not Thou A Man Like Me? For I Dance And Drink And Sing, Till Some Blind Hand Shall Brush My Wing!

The World Of Imagination Is The World Of Eternity. It Is The Divine Bosom Into Which We Shall All Go After The Death Of The Vegetated [i.e. Mortal] Body. This World Of Imagination Is Infinite And Eternal, Whereas The World Of Generation Is Finite And Temporal. There Exist In That Eternal World The Eternal Realities Of Everything Which We See Reflected In This Vegetable Glass Of Nature.

And I Watered It In Fears, Night And Morning With My Tears; And I Sunned It With Smiles, And With Soft Deceitful Wiles.