What is grand is necessarily obscure to weak men. That which can

Hear the burning words of William Blake, poet, prophet, and seer of visions: “What is grand is necessarily obscure to weak men. That which can be made explicit to the idiot is not worth my care.” These words strike like thunder, filled with disdain for the shallow mind and reverence for the mystery of the sublime. Blake speaks as one who gazed beyond the veil of common understanding, who saw eternity in a grain of sand, and who would not stoop to simplify the infinite to satisfy the lazy or the blind.

The meaning is fierce. That which is truly grand—beauty, truth, the divine—cannot be grasped easily. To the weak man, unwilling to labor with mind and spirit, such grandeur appears obscure, hidden, incomprehensible. Yet the fault is not in the grandeur but in the weakness of the beholder. Blake insists that the highest truths are veiled in mystery, requiring strength, vision, and inner fire to behold. Conversely, anything that can be explained so simply that even the idiot grasps it without effort is, to him, unworthy of reverence. For the treasures of wisdom are not cast before swine, but hidden like jewels that only the diligent may discover.

The origin of these words lies in Blake’s own life, misunderstood in his time. He painted visions that others called madness, wrote poetry that bewildered his contemporaries, and spoke of angels and eternity when others spoke only of reason and profit. To those without imagination, his art was obscure, even foolish. Yet today, he is revered as a prophet, for his grand vision has outlived the judgment of the weak men who dismissed him. Thus, his defiance: he would not bend his work to please shallow minds, for that which is watered down loses its fire.

History confirms his wisdom. Consider Galileo, who gazed through his telescope and declared the Earth moved around the sun. To the weak men of his time, this truth was too grand, too obscure, and they condemned him. Yet what was once obscure became the foundation of modern science. Or think of Vincent van Gogh, whose paintings were ignored, even mocked, in his lifetime. To those around him, his visions were incomprehensible. Yet today, the world trembles at the grandeur of his art. The grand is often obscure until the soul of mankind has grown strong enough to receive it.

There is a warning here: beware the temptation of ease. Many crave truths that can be consumed quickly, like food already chewed. But Blake warns that such truths are shallow, hardly worth attention. The truths that transform us, that shake us to the core, require struggle. They are veiled in obscurity because only those who hunger deeply and labor diligently will uncover them. To dismiss the obscure is to exile oneself from the grandeur of life itself.

The lesson for us is clear: do not shrink from mystery. When you encounter words, art, or ideas that you cannot at once understand, resist the urge to scorn them as nonsense. Instead, press on, seek deeper, sharpen your mind and soul. For in the obscure often lies the grand, waiting to reveal itself to the one who endures the labor of seeking. To demand that all things be made simple is to confess weakness; to embrace mystery is to declare strength.

Practical action flows from this truth. Cultivate patience with the difficult. Read books that challenge you, sit with art that unsettles you, ponder mysteries that seem beyond your grasp. Refuse the cheap answers that flatter the idiot, and instead seek the fire that transforms the strong. Above all, honor the obscure—not because it is obscure, but because through it the grand reveals itself to the soul that is ready.

Take this as a guiding flame: “What is grand is necessarily obscure to weak men.” Therefore, strengthen yourself, sharpen your vision, and do not fear the depths. For the shallow truth may comfort for a moment, but the obscure grandeur, once revealed, will set your spirit aflame and carry you closer to eternity.