ding us
Still we're aware of its centre
 [bad word] thoughts from a blurry muss
With the analogy of electricity to enter

I've painted a world in the dark,
With elegant patterns and connections
This cosmic genesis' lightning arc,
Shapes my [bad word] 

microscopical macrocosm,
Of distant mountains and inner plasm,
All the elements are eloquenced by infinity
microscopical macrocosm,
I and Me float through its chasms,
Filtering the universe through a living internity

Thousands of pathway's directory,
Lie dormant in this unexplored animator
In its lobe rests our closest galaxy
Reading, visions from the spiral generator

 [bad word] into a condition
Of thinking and intuition

"Sometimes the blind have the perfect protection,
More honestly they describe the sky
We should look in every direction,
Beyond the experiences of the [bad word] eye"