The Organist: Variation On a Theme

His hands scattering songs like seeds, He walks miles, even continents of Bach, Sometimes sauntering along an inner landscape, Philosophizing, asking questions That answer themselves; Sometimes striding toward an irresistible horizon; Dancing, leaping for joy at Whims, fantasies, Contradictions; Pausing often before the mystery Of sunlight and stars; And leaving behind everywhere A burgeoning.