Crescendo

[Beowulf]

Crescendo

You, my beautiful symphony
With your subtle tunings
And delicate discrepancies
Even the slightest hair-thin slip, too sharp or flat
Can ruin even you

Can cause your notes to screech dissonance
Your notes flattened by an overbearing musician
Even you can fill the halls with cacophonous echoes
Every note painfully pinging off every wall and every shimmering chandelier
And the clashing of the timpani out of rhythm
Makes me wish that God had not set music down
In his well-meant alms gone awry

But you, my symphony
You are perfect in every way
And the ever-slightest embrace and fine-tuned amendment
Turns the deafening discord into flourishing harmony
You spread and splash, touching the lowest of Es to the highest of Cs
With the grace and the ease of a child at play

My symphony, you wash over the crowd
And erode bitter stony expressions to those
Of tears of joy and applause so loud
That every symphony hall across all the measure of the Earth
Tremor with your greatness
And you, my symphony, receive the ovation of every ear
Deaf or hearing

You are my beautiful symphony
And beyond any Earthly symphony hall
Made of stone and pearl
You will crescendo

[Pun]

Very nice.

[Sergeant Thorne]

Wuss

[Beowulf]

Philistine.

[Darkside Heartless]

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