light and frothy, deep and mellow, across the pond and into the shallow
water where the fish zip by, nibble on my legs and fly
skipping on the surface gleams, a new and lovely symmetry
William Blake was a poet, a visionary man with words to show it
the power of the vibrant pen, set loose in motion around the bend
the wooden raft of good Huck Finn--a rite of passage for ordinary men
east and west, north and south, such boundaries crossed
shall never divide, the rising, ripping, roaring tide
of Truth untold...who will speak it? you or me or perhaps all three?
it's a secret, i say, don't you dare do tell
i'll meet you inside the golden bell
(((((((((Bonnnnggggg)))))))))
