Against the fates we do rightly follow,
Not fearing the black of the starless night,
In this long born vacuum of sorrow,
Holding the fading memory of light.
With brushes of fire, and strokes of flames true,
Energy of a thousand warriors,
Pushes us forward and infinitely through,
Our mission pure, and yet notorious.
With the blackness our only sought canvas,
For stars in bloom to light our fated path,
We do paint in a frenzy of madness,
All to escape night’s cold and bitter wrath.
And then we leap with joy between the stars,
Oh, how remarkable and how sublime!
Weaving cosmic connections that are ours,
All this in precious and endless time.
