Sigh no more

Mumford and Sons' "Sigh No More" and
Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing"


Suddenly I'm all too aware that my life is measured out in beats of the heart that pulse to a rain rhythm, a frantic cadence counts down my moments until the final decrescendo. And upon self-reflection, what then can I say of my endeavors. Naught but save this:


     that my life and all aspects therein, were ever forfeit,


     that I desired naught but the joy and pleasure of others and to love them wholly, as so few can, and


     that I found God my Saviour daily in the basic pulchritude I found around me, and


     that He was ever my first love --that desire as the fount from whence came any redeeming quality I perchance had.




But I feel in my heart, with each drop of rain, life fleeing, and a tug of infinity.
Life can still be sought in whispers; I need only to remember how I once listened.