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It is from the order of succession in Nature
And not from the ever-lasting endurance of her works
That we may expect the reign of perpetual activity in her wide domains

In her living kingdom
The ravages of decay and death
Are eternally repaired by the birth of new represantatives of life
As lands will vanish and appear above the waters

We are alone
And under cold stone
We rot

So afraid
Of change
Still we serve
The origin of worlds

The matter saved from such mighty wrecks
Will again be available for useful ends;
The forces which seem destroyed
Only assume other forms to participate in new movements and operations

I can see
A face split in a grin
And I see
A dream that did not come true
And all according to the plan
We are deer
Expected at the rear end of our own objective
All we were and are and will be...
Serves the origin of worlds

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