Hyperion's Song of Fate

You walk up there in the light

on soft ground, blessed spirits!

Gleaming, divine breezes

touch you lightly,

as a female musician's fingers touch

holy strings.

As fateless as a sleeping

infant, the Heavenly Ones breathe.

Chastely guarded,

as in a modest bud,

eternally bloom

their spirits,

and their blessed eyes

gaze in calm,

eternal clarity.

But it is our fate

to have no rest anywhere.

Vanishing, falling,

suffering human beings

go blindly from one

hour to the next

like water from cliff

to cliff, thrown

downward for years long into Uncertainty.