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.
