Creshendo

Beethoven's number 5, has fire to teach
an unlit mind a mystic Grace. So fraught
with force, its passages rouse flight in each.
New pathos in the soaring soul, has caught
that gentle trance which tracks the twilight breeze,
whose smooth spell trills, the lullaby of leaves.
This music has the power to appease
the longing for meaning a man percieves.
Few shocks will waken those whose lives rely
on staged events and rituals of the herd.
The rage to smash cliche and cleanse the eye,
restores to pristine glory, Primal Word.
The deaf and blind in spirit lack the sense
to foster and enhance intelligence.