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True music
Does not lie
Seduces only
To compassion
Rare true music
Will stop hatred
And violence, for a time
Beethoven's last Quartets
Begin to be True Music
Music that sounds
all the time
Try, if you will,
Indeed
Bondage and Discipline
Cannot be done
To Beethoven's Last Quartets
Nevertheless
Beethoven ate animals
Between symphonies
and laughed when the
Jewish Community wanted to commission him
Not enough joy for brotherhood
Not enough joy to erase the memories
Of habits of mind
Was die Mode streng geteilt
Joy and distraction are not enough
To detract man from his hates for long,
The fury for not being omnipotent
From injustice experienced
and committed
From his destruction
Joy by itself cannot endure
Unless fed by Love
Continuously
With a break only
For reverence,
For the source of love
This Beethoven did in his music
Precisely
But even he could not do it
In daily life
All the time.
Only the greatest music even begins
To be great enough
To start to erase our inflamed blind spot
Music is personal
But contains no address -
A fatal flaw
The default address we provide
Automatically acknowledges
Our blind spot
This deeply inflamed stain music
Needs to attack
To let love flow freely to the dark
unseen regions
To those
Not on our address file.
It could not do it for Beethoven
How would it
For the workers of Buchenwald ?
Our address system is fashioned by a different
Non-musical compiler
Music can only deliver the message
Not find the address
That is a gnostic function
Of Love itself
Writing its own evolution.
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