He Is Not Always At

These Dwell Among The Blackest Souls,loaded Down Deep By Sins Of Differing Types.if You Sink Far Enough,you'll See Them All.

I Saw Within Its Depth How It Conceives All Things In A Single Volume Bound By Love Of Which The Universe Is The Scattered Leaves.

The Truth Thy Speech Doth Show, Within My Heart Reproves The Swelling Pride.

The Customs And Fashions Of Men Change Like Leaves On The Bough, Some Of Which Go And Others Come.

Like The Lark That Soars In The Air, First Singing, Then Silent, Content With The Last Sweetness That Satiates It, Such Seemed To Me That Image, The Imprint Of The Eternal Pleasure.