That I should make much of my self and turn it on all sides—thus casting coloured shadows on thy radiance, such is thy maya. Thou settst a barrier in thine own being and then callest thy severed self in myriad notes. This thy self-separation has taken body in me. The poignant song of separation severance is echoed through all the sky in many-coloured tears and smiles, hopes and fears, and waves rise and fall, dreams break and form. In me is thy own defeat of self.
This screen that thou hast raised is painted with innumerable figures with the brush of the night and the day. And behind it thou hast woven thy seat in wondrous mysteries of curves, spurning all barren lines of straightness.
It is the great greeting of thee and me all about the sky, and the game of thee and me is being played on of thee and me from far to near. The great pageant of thee and me has overspread all the sky. With the tune of thee and me all the air is vibrant and the hours all ages pass with the hiding and seeking of thee and me from far to near.
