Fantasizing To The Third Of The Pagan Vision (Quoth The Sky Nevermore)

(Quoth the Sky, Nevermore Act II)
 I stood before my reflection
 With a beloved adherent
 Waiting beneath the cross for a purpose
 To drink my tepid blood from the chalice
 Impart thou in the text of Scourge
 And cleft through the veil of the virgin
 Purity is to live
 To the highest; and the highest is unjust
 Fantasizing to the third of my gentile sight
 In the gate of the mind appears
 And arise with turbulence called I
 The artfullness of the blind Shabbathai
 For thee have I worshipped the Stars
 I cried, while you perpetually died
 ...On top of Black Montanus of thy Septentrio
 Animus of an aged Tetragrammaton
 With stains, a lucid cicatrix of disgrace
 With joyful, elated Endeavour
 O lilywhite goat
 Frail as a thicket of thorns
 With a collar of gold for thy throat
 A crimson bow for thy horns
 O lilywhite goat
 You made ma Paganal dreams erroneous