This structure woven of the
Fabric Music,
Grander than the gilt-gold
cathedral,
Vast as all of space.
Filling,
So filling of the
Empty body.
The body sorrow for love.
The body needing in companionship.
Yes, This!
This is my church.
Feel along with me the
Upwelling in melody sublime.
You need not be silent in my temple.
The line and the rhythm
Complex or no
Will capture you and your life.
And if you sing, shout, or scream,
You will never be able to ignore
That structure permeating.
Even you,
In the belief you are soulless,
Turn not a back to
Beauty surrounding—
Cannot hide from matter without mass
Or the waves that are as
Powerful as any ocean swell.
And more lovely.
This structure blinds even the hardest hearts
To their pursuit of misery.
When one is moved,
One moves.
And music—
The wailing funeral dirge and the
Soft, crying melody included—
Moves ever upward.
