April’s mischief continues. Today’s prompt is, Blakelike, experience/inexperience.
The Infinite within an Orb of Ice
The realms of gold so-called, the realms of lies
Beguiled me like a Jesuit. Before
The crystal doorknob on the bathroom door
I swore an apparition spoke, I swore
It begged me to Aladdin up and shine
Its prison, and the contents would be mine:
The infinite within this orb of ice.
The local crimes my spyglass could not solve,
The backyard treasure not beneath the ground,
The King of Cats unspeaking and uncrowned —
Such things I found. Or this was all I found:
The infinite within an orb of ice
Is, polished, still a prison, a device
Not all your heat of reason will dissolve.