From the cusp of midnight mountains
Wending as a mist
Rebels truced with Feriluce
(In truth, few could resist)
Came praising his hellraising through
The sparse and marble clime
Where Virtue bathed, their ravings made
Her fountains flood with wine

Lifted with the gift
Of their dark seductive songs
She drifted from the path
She was surely set upon
Courting chaos
Prized in sight
Of the covering angel
Taught in ways of
Smothering another lover
Other than God
Worshipped in each other's arms
Like spider eidolons...