Perhaps there was in Beethoven the man, a child inside that never grew up and to the end of his life remained a creature of grace and innocence and trust even in his moments of greatest despair. And that innocent spirit speaks to us of hope and future and immortality.
Spring comes
a smug cliché of fat buds
the earth is getting ready
to spring spring upon us
the birds are making a racket
in the bland air.
Why do I growing old
in all this abundance of life
say to death, move over,
let us sit together a moment
on the doorstep?
~ from THIS DANCING GROUND OF THE SKY by Peggy Pond Church