Sing

I used to only sing about broken hearts
For a time, that was the only emotion strong enough
To come surging out of my bones in the shape of a song.
I used to only sing about being lost
Only because when I was lost
I knew I would feel at home behind steel and wood
Rumbling spruce and shaking strings.
I used to only sing about what was gone
An attempt to touch a ghost
And make solid what was just smoke and ash.
Now I try to sing of truth
The soaring as much as the sorrow
The expansive space between being alone and being lonely
The exaltation of simply being.