He It Is

He it is,
  the innermost one,
  who awakens my being
  with his deep hidden touches.

He it is
  who puts his enchantment upon these eyes
  and joyfully plays on the chords of my heart
  in varied cadence of pleasure and pain.

He it is
  who weaves the web of this maya
  in evanescent hues of gold and silver, blue and green,
  and lets peep out through the folds his feet,
  At whose touch I forget myself.

Days come and ages pass,
  and it is ever he who moves my heart
  in many a name,
  in many a guise,
  in many a rapture of joy and sorrow.
_{Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali}