Build up the walls about me, close each door;
And fasten all the windows with your bars;
Still shall I walk abroad on Heaven's floor
And be companion to the singing stars.

Whether your prison be of greatest height
Or gloomier depth, it matters not. Though blind
I still shall look upon the the burning light,
And see the flowers dancing in the wind.

Your walls will disappear, your doors will swing,
Even as I command them. I shall fare
Either up hill or down, and I shall be
Beside the happy lark when he takes wing,
Striking sweet music from the empty air,
And pass immortal mornings by the sea.


 = Doug Ross