URIZEN – FIRST DRAFT

Work quickly, man. The stench is suffocating...

"Mr. Blake, sir...?"

But what a study this is! Every inch a weighted, aged Urizen in profile. Such definition to those deep, barren tributaries. Canyons etched by reason's searing course! The form and fall of the beard can be addressed in a few bold strokes. We cannot stay so wretched, sir. Immortality is nothing if not well groomed. My compliments to the Keeper for such a find. It is more than exact...

"Mr. Blake, sir...?"

A great compass shall be grasped in those slack and knotted hands. Nets to snare. Tomes of brass and gold shall lie open beneath that grave, implacable stare. Laws to counter sin. Great architect! Look not so downhearted, 'tis an elevation - an elevation! Here, some lustre to that fallow crown. There, some flesh to those veiled bones. Now we increase the form! How Atlas would envy these shoulders...

"Sir...?"

And from those shoulders to the daughter's form. Ardent, doting Eleth. Can naught persuade her from his side? What a cast she has found since she fell from the stars! A model of constancy. No treatments or flourishes. These strokes will follow her. Youth will do its own work...

"Sir...?"

URIZEN – FIRST DRAFT

Lord, how do they bear to inhale! But I must see my fill. These perfect, wretched forms. A glorious find. My memories shall be as a flood. Urizen, constraining keeper of mankind, I shall cast you out from darkness! I shall seat you next to gods! I shall...

"Mr. Blake, sir, please. The hangman waits. You must leave now."