Therapists find fortune in misfortune,
Here to help us navigate our pain.
If our existence must precede our essence,
Requiring an extended adolescence,
There is need for those who keep us sane.
Yet some fear nothing more than resurrection.
Sing, then, of therapists, who would find ways,
Even in these times, to ease distress,
Vested in the cause of happiness,
Embracing life through long and brutal days,
Not least because their love demands no less.