He thinks with his fingers,
He plays with his mind,
He reads with his ears,
And leads while behind.
His art never lingers,
In silence he sings,
To err is but human,
But God to him clings.
He always remembers
As light follows thought,
And fright does not foster,
Despite of this lot.
While I spite the facade
Behind which I be,
Sinful to say that
I too can be he.
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