Engulfed in passion, striving,
To achieve but impure truth,
Obsessed by something not sensed,
But believing it has been cleansed,
Pitiful and not worth ruth,
You will curl up and admit you're fading.

Ubiquitous, like a deity,
You can feel her wraith so clearly,
All you crave is to clutch,
A merest touch of your tainted hand.
And the enormous lust,
Not to understand beyond yourself.

Of all the external space materials, you'll choose,
The one, that you'd not accept to lose.
None of the others would seem so dear,
And in none of the others necessity shall appear.
Why not to take one, that would not wound, nor bruise,
Take that, which hides behind it's ruse?

Struck with inability to have volition,
Without which, your spirit shall not shine,
And emptiness embrace your mind.
You will lose hope and act malicious,
Within a thought of what was implied.