Out of a grey-washed whirlwind 
Imagination stands
against a blue star-clad sky ‐
Four spirits reach

A bearded god with outstretched arms,
cruciform,
perches on a veil of clouds

Are you Apollo to his right,
guiding a chariot pulled by four
prancing steeds,
light shooting from your head?

And Artemis, the twin, on his left?
Her coiled dragons in darkness wait
Her moonlit crescent crown shines the way

Beneath them all
The pleading eyes of Job who asked, “Why?”

(The poetry of William Blake has always intrigued me, but I just
discovered his art. The blending of myth and bibical story
in his art should not have surprised me, but it did.)