Mercy powered my delight

Dark days were foreseen Events turned out mean No more was I serene As on the rim do I lean!  The cause, the loss of my pen My favourite, gifted by my Beloved Shall I bear with such a stand? Existence itself seemed recurved!  Blessed thought I be to be though When a tap I heard on my window A little dove it was, with my pen in its beak Delighted, I felt my heart getting weak!   Dark days turned golden Must be the Mercy of Urizen A little dove turned invisible After acting as his rightful disciple! My Beloved shall not be sad Fate did not allow me to be bad To write eternal verses I shall, Of his love, care and enthrall!