7Pt. 1
"Now, my Father," said the child, and the child
was I,
"I want to know, please, El Shaddai, just what
You plan to do."
And with my face uplifted to the dark of heaven's
bowl,
I waited, for the answer, explanation, soon
to come.
For visions to assault, or for dreams to roll and
foam
From depths unguessed, of mysteries mankind
has never known.
But a silence met my ears, and nothing did He
say,
And in frustration I recoil'd and left my Meadownight.
Pt. 2
Then, when the harsh cacaphony of life once more
rushed in,
I found my footsteps trailing echoes back to
Meadownight.
And God, He met me there, and so I posed my
words again.
And finally a sound revereberated from His
soul.
I wanted then to seize it close, nigh to my heart
to hold
But God, He stilled my fingers with a glance
of reprimand
And I was quite reproved, and stood, and let within
the night
The scrying glasses washing o'er me soft as
lapping tides.
Pt. 3
I saw a window: cystal-paned and spinning
window come
Draped from within by yards of a mahogany
brocade.
Inside there crouched a grand piano, top propped
up to play,
But all the room was bare. Its walls were seared in
harrowed thought.
The floor was strewn with something I dismissed as
mere debris.
Pt. 4
My eyes then dipped in close and saw the notes sprawled
'cross the sheets,
And trash was suddenly made good: the scraps
that genius left.
Behind the black piano, perched up high upon
its stool,
There sat an old maestro, all his mind upon the
keys.
His fingers, they were moving in a dance like a
caress,
Pressing now one and now another. Such
a symphony!
The man's whole frame was brimmed with
captivating, swaying love.
Pt. 4
I felt the frenzy of his mind from just without
the room.
And yet, in time, when I sank down and passed
in through the panes,
I could not hear a note, a chord: not any sound
at all!
And so I turned and asked my Lord why this thing
should be so.
He only said, "You hear, my child, with ears of
Beethoven."
Pt. 5
He gestured to the man at that, so I learned
who he was,
And then I cried, and sobbed, and wept; my tears flow'd
as the rain.
I hear what he hears? Not a thing. There is no
symphony!
Oh, how can he endure, my God? Such beauty
held from him...
Beethoven deaf is darkest far of all the dark
of Man -
Of all the wrongs that e'er have been since Time
was birthed, O Lord.
Pt. 6
My tears burned - stung - like acid rain, as unmarked
there they fell.
I tore my hands from those of God, and beat upon
the door.
"Will no one let me out?" I screamed - and God, He
took my hand
And led me back to stand behind Beethoven as
he played.
For once, I looked into the face of Adonai, my
King
And saw there ecstasy, a joy poured out from
Eru's eyes
As, following the music and the liltings of the
hands,
He sang a wordless tune which also was not
audible.
Pt. 7
I asked, "My Lord, where is the good You see
but I do not?"
He looked with wonder at my grief, and smiled
to us both.
"Listen," He said, and touched the ears of Beethoven,
then me.
And suddenly the swellings of a euphony
rushed in:
In melodies, and harmonies, and unities
of notes.
No chord was false, but brilliant past terrestrial
play it was,
To join the songs of angels, and the singing of
the spheres.
Pt. 8
Silence, said I, was all Beethoven heard
forevermore?
Nay, Silence Glorious, and one such only he
could hear.
For in the Silence of his mind was wreathed
a Meadownight,
And in the Silence of his mind, he tasted
holiness.
Pt. 9
The Lord returned with me again to my own
Meadownight
And laughed, and set me down, and then
tipped up my chin to Him.
"O daughter, you will not forget Beethoven deaf,
I think -
But even less will you forget the lesson taught you
there.
You must be humble, O my child, for I make joy
in pain,
And I am Lord of Light and Love. All darkness will
give way."