I have sung too much, too long, of pain.
The litany of syllables dictating pangs of wounds
And memories of shattered hearts and minds
Has drowned out all else.
My suit, my complaint, has become a filibuster
Against the very light whose absence I mourn.

I do not reproach myself for it;
T’was necessary, and, more importantly,
It was thoroughly real.
Even the bleakest song was a worthy agony
And so this is not a new lament,
But a canticle of reversal.

Now I will sing of truth, for truth is beautiful and good.
I will sing of wisdom in her refulgence,
I will sing of knowledge upon her ivory throne,
I will sing of understanding which pierces the veil,
Breaking down barriers between hearts and minds,
Of that light which dispels ignorant shadows.

I will sing of goodness, for goodness is true and beautiful.
I will sing of courage, hero’s courage, bold, ****** courage,
I will sing of love, mother’s love, sacrificial love,
I will sing of charity, generous charity, of humble almsgiving,
I will sing of justice, no less just for being merciful,
I will sing of humility, so true and sweet it will not sing for itself.

I will sing of beauty, for beauty is good and true.
I will learn at the knees of the weeping willow,
And the stoic mountain shall reveal his smile,
I will rediscover sunrise and sunset with each revolution of earth,
And I will dance with the birds of paradise,
Cackling gleeful with cheering toads and crickets and hooting apes,

And I will sing you a new song.