O’, relic gods, I pray you, hear me now,
gather your strengths of brother moon,
and with its vast command of the tides,
roll this world away to some distant shore,
disband its orbit that ne’er it may return,
and wipe clean from its spatial stain
all the vestiges of Time left in its wake,
let the stars renew their vigor once more.
Roll this world away to its wan demise,
that all men who held it captive in vain,
whether turned to dust, or still in stead,
shall its future kings ne’er have worry,
let them rule outside their empty halls,
and break this wanton treatise of wars,
by which this world has suffered too oft,
so shall no more play victim to the fury.