Page 62 - GALIET HEAVEN´S SCROLL IV
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Word, as He was; if He were not, in fact, the First Unmoved Mover of Aristotle’s pensiveness, how could His creation be most excellent without gazing at the Beautiful Ideas whether of cosmos, world, luminaries either within (a Philonism) or without Himself (a Platonism)?
Again, He could just utter, or conjure up anything at all: the sensical and non-sensical, sharing Hermes’ duplicity and mischief, and the perfect and imperfect, and fantastically so, as if His divine fiat were a succulent, yet horrid magic spell. His conceivable “anything” and “whatever” would suddenly manifest itself in the mirror of existence as good and evil, as Lucifer and Satan, as that placid Lamb and that fearful tyger haunting Borges’ and Blake’s dreams,
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain?
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