My mother groaned, my father wept:
Into the dangerous world I leapt,
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my father’s hands,
Striving against my swaddling bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother’s breast.
— William Blake, Songs of Experience
BOOK OF EXPERIENCE
The Book of Experience (page 01), 2009
oil, collage on paper
13.5 x 9.5 in.