Unearthly music fills the sky
The incorporeal voice of a child
The tones of unimaginable instruments
Toward which words can never ascend

And yet I am compelled to recite
And what force could drive me to a task
Which as task is doomed to fail
Perhaps if I think of it otherwise than as task

But to think is to despair
And it is not given not to think
Perhaps if I turn my thoughts elsewhere
And hear the music for myself alone

It cannot be
That is of course it is as this
This is of course how it is
And in this I cannot be

The music lives in the sky
And yet it touches me
Untroubled by can or cannot
Mere tokens of earthly gravitation