Promethean Beethoven

Promethean Beethoven

(photo by Maddalena)

I write this
in the empty
potholed
parking lot
of an old, broken mill
while snow melts
off the roof to
a corregated porchtop
and plays
accompaniment
to a Beethoven symphony
blaring loud from my car speakers.

Beethoven is meant to be played
loud
and
deep.
The music becomes everything.
The music engulfs
consumes
becomes.
The music is an idea
that in reality
is naught but a faint
whisper.

Idea
serves us as fire does.
Prometheus stole Idea.
Air, Earth, Water, Fire,
Fire
changes everything
gives us comfort
as it consumes
but fire can become a
conflagration
a pure Idea
and then it engulfs all
it consumes
it becomes
us.

Ideas are like Fire
meant as a comfort
so that we do not toil in vain.