then i filled with a million little shudders as every cell seemed to notice a new song , a higher reed , the midsummers night and the mist and the sleeping cows in the meadow , and the cuckoo far away and i think i just vanished for the duration of the song , which seemed to last and last and fill the church from far beneath it in the frozen dirt all the way to high above it into the stars , and still he played this song , hands and feet , i could hear him move by the organ somewhere above me , soles hitting the wooden keys by his feet , fingers hitting and clicking the many keys meant for more hands than we have , and still he played and still i had ceased to be .