Expectancy stands alone

And crowds the vast emptiness

This locked chest of a chamber

With its false floor the illusory

Dais on which, four-legged

carpentry of stretcherbearers,

crouches the throne

Of tomorrow’s glory when

The hunters come down

From the cut-wood gloom

Stung hard to pursuit

The shadows of potentates

And pretenders but he holds

Fast, the privileged indifference

That is fruitless patience

Expectancy stands ever

Alone before this eternally

Empty, so very empty throne.

Hold of the Empty Throne

Kerrulict

(MT, UK Trade, p.484)