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Remove the borders and bounds,
Kneel before the blessed.
Become formless in deformities
And hold me, hold me now.

Curvature may have no end, the mass shall act towards.
Will dew fall on the ground beneath the coldness stilling?

Directed at the blackness, a red path is rising.
Light ray of defenselessness can take me into relief.

Great ones, untouchable stellar pale face of the Moon,
Spiraling into itself on Anti-Cosmic ways of Doom.

I have watched the dew falling on the blackened ground of Void,
I have felt myself crawling on the lower side of the matter.

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