Notes from W. Blake

Eternals, I hear your call
dictating swift winged words
fearing not, assured.
Beheld your vast Forests
Age on Ages he lay, closed, unknown
brooding, shut in the deep; all void
the terrific adominable chaos
Will you die, O Eternals?
Why live in unquenchable burnings?
Seven deadly Sins of the Soul.
Rage siezed the strong ones.
Book of Brass
An ocean of voidness unfathomable
The Eternal mind bounded to roll
dices of wrath, ceaseless, round
and sulphor forms, urging
settled a lake, bright shinning
white as the snow on the mountains

Cold...

And in a state of dismal woe
two Ears in close volutions
Life as cataracts parred down its cliffs...