I know a song-
A song of heart-
A song I fear will never start;
For it is not sung from the lungs-
But a drone that sounds, sounds,
Loud, louder- it is a not sung for cowards-
It is for people rising for a new day-
It is special, in a way.
It rescues the soldiers from their posts-
And the mothers waiting for their child;
It is not sung in a way that is mild, for-
It creates, hesitates not, is sung for those,
At the bottom, near the end; not for pretenders-
Nor money lenders or makers, or takers-
Of what it gives; no, it is for those-
Who need it most- the rebellious
spirits. The change-makers.
At the end of their ropes.
When the birds hear it, they cry out-
They sing louder in its ambience, radiance-
It is not loud but they can hear it, this
It sneaks up on them and sings to them-
And so it is sung to all, but few know it.
Few could hear it and believe it-
This undying song of wisdom, the unwise-
shall never know it. How can they?
It is a call for the meek-
A call for the new day.
Each day I hear the song-
And my mind and my heart grow farther-
Apart, from this I do learn and yearn-
For the eyes of my face to merge with the eye-
Of my mind, for my faith grows stronger-
Oh! How this song can captivate me, bring hope-
to me, carry me, and I am not lonely-
If I am the only one,
Who can hear it.