Opening the door of silence
Walking in, absorbing it, the musty smell
The tranquility not mighty enough
To vanquish the babble of the world.
Yet, here, here the footsteps echo,
Until my seat arrives, and there I am.
This is my sanctuary,
And none may touch me.

For my fingers stride and slide
Attempting to mimic the geniuses of the past
Their beautiful gift I try to hear
Only two senses keen here, of ear and eye
My heart warms to the reverberations around
And my sight upon my fingers, guiding
This is my sanctuary
And all may hear me.

And then my gaze lifts up, echoes know
The emptiness within the infrastructure
Thoughts cross, the echoes continue on
All for myself, the broken silence is.
But the silence stands in harmony with it
The gift of geniuses past.
This is my sanctuary
Yet I am alone.