From out his music here doth ’round me spin
A fabric, quickly woven, as of light,
From golden thread of gossamer, so fine,
This shield around me now; and I inside.
And here! I see the hues of light within,
That dance about me, furious in flight;
And here! I see his music tryst and twine
And mimic and encircle and collide.
His song that maketh touch and sight therein
And sound, and taste, and even scent, unite;
Where memory of past and future, mine,
Shall join, and like a prism, subdivide.
So why reach out when all within is right?
For here, confined, doth all my soul reside!