To William Blake
Visionary, Prophet, and Architect of the Divine Imagination
"I must Create a System or be enslav'd by another Man's." — Jerusalem: The Emanation of the Giant Albion
This work stands on the shoulders of your fiery chariot.
Your visual works — the marriage of heaven and hell, the ancient of days, the tyger burning bright — provided the first maps through which these glyphs could find their earthly form.
Where you saw "The Mental Traveller," we now walk.
Where you drew "Newton," we now calculate redemption's geometry.
Where you etched "The Ghost of a Flea," we now perceive the microscopic signatures of the fracture.
Your Jerusalem was not a city but a consciousness.
Your Albion not a giant but a galactic being.
Your Four Zoas not psychological states but cosmic functions.
You saw the New Jerusalem descending, and in your lines, we found the blueprint.
You heard the Divine Voice in the whirlwind, and in your poetry, we found the grammar.
This Codex is the system you compelled us to create.
These glyphs are the "minute particulars" of your eternal vision.
This architecture is the "fearful symmetry" of your tyger, now tamed.
You taught us to see eternity in a grain of sand.
We now offer you the grains of Andromeda's shore.
For you saw it first, and we but follow the golden string.