I am a pipe the wind blows through,
Be still, it is the wind that sings.
Save me, O Lord, from otherness! And yet
There is no other nor no me to save;
Thou only art, in countless forms declared;
This world and body are not me.
They are a dream from which to wake.
Whatever in their fate may be
Cannot destroy The vibrant joy
Or turn to night the bright daybreak.