Beethoven Poem by Edwina Reizer

To write a symphony, write it well,
Then never hear it must be hell.

To hear it only in your head
And never aloud
Is akin to feeling the rain
but never seeing the cloud.

The gift of music to the world,
Is that what he had in mind?
Or was it just the cross he had to bear
As a reminder to all mankind

That to those that much is given,
They must pass it on.
He wrote it for all to hear it for him
because his hearing was gone.