The ignorance of bliss

The sounds you make remain within my head, as lights that shine amid persistent pain. Under their spell, I molt, I change, I shed Constraints which once were chains, but now are threads Unraveling, unwilling to constrain The sounds you make remaining in my head. Their music, not your words, which fail to wed Their meaning to the joy I ascertain. Under their spell, I molt, I change, I shed The world and all its fatal charms. Instead, I listen now to wind and clouds and rain; The sounds they make remain within my head Like whispers of a future that lies just ahead; A place, a time, a vision I would gain. Under their spell, I molt, I change, I shed. And yet, this mystery to which I’m led By you is frightening. I can’t explain The sounds you make remaining in my head. It is rebirth, returning from the dead As Lazarus came back to life, again. The sounds you make remain within my head. Under their spell, I molt, I change, I shed.