Egepis and Eaglesturn Stately in the High Empyrean.
Spectrals sorrow the Mount and with Eyes cast down, The burning cloudsFumarolling Frown Such vague wonders.
Path, Path? Why in these throne-like climes, does darkness find? If Sol were an inconstant fiddle, some doubt. There is none Father. My prayer is to blind myself In your empty physical light beyond knowing, beyond the images of Egepis and Eagles.
