That part always gets me.
It is the movie Immortal Beloved.
The last part, with symphony number nine.
And the magic the music holds.
The joy of life.
As seen by a young boy, and the old man he became.
The way life is good.
And we are all part of this big old universe.
The simplicity and grandness.
Both awesomely dwarfing and so reassuring.
That life is temporary and passing.
The young get old and the old die.
But it is the ride that matters, not so much the end.
The Joy of this ride we call life.
The pains we feel, large and small, are the price of the ticket.
And the nothingness is not to be feared.
It is the way we are part of everything.
When I say we don’t really matter,
I mean that we cannot matter more,
As we are part of it all.
And it, we, all, matters only as much as it does.
The joy flows. From love and smiles.
It is the goal.
Making disappointment and heartbreak all right.
The final ending for us is the same.
The amazing unknown.
