Walk lightly upon the path of the Tyger!
Tread quietly, and do not disturb the Tyger!
Upon the night, mother moon she is burning,
The rabbit shows it’s form upon her face so bright,
There is a place where we all begIn.
From starlight to stardust the
Body forms and we roam the forests.
Celestial bodies we are made of,
We cannot fear what guides the
quiet blanket of the night,
We needn’t always ask what,
or wonder if we can be immortal,
It may just all be in the palm of a hand.
Have you ever looked beyond this place or
do you believe in only what our
Capture in its tiny frame?
How can you follow thy
Peers when they lack so much symmetry?
Using yesterday’s NaPoWriMo prompt, I’ve attempted to write A Golden Shovel using an extract from William Blake’s ‘Tyger Songs of Experience’. Not sure I’ve quite got the form, but it was an interesting effort!