I counted the stars tonight and behold, they were many. Too many in fact. So plentiful even that I began to despair that so many of one thing existed and that even if I could count all I see, there are perhaps infinite more that I cannot. It seemed then that it was a wearisome task to be alive and I sought to hide myself in the cleft of my blanket. But alas, even a blanket as sturdy as mine afforded little shelter from the universe and its bigness. I could not escape the feeling, though I know it well.

I am alone.

And in a moment my already fragile heart did break and shatter and perhaps become as scattered as the stars themselves. I tried to gather up the pieces and clumsily put them back together, but my glue doesn’t seem to work on heart pieces. And of course they were again plentiful. But still I tried to find them all. In vain I tried and applied my hands to a loathsome task of splinters and cuts and exasperation.

In the end my end was inevitable. Not the end per se of my life or story, but perhaps of my heart. It was a silly thing to begin with, all blood and tubes. I mean, I seemed to be getting on pretty well without it, it appears life goes on. But it is colder and bleaker and a little less bright. In fact, it isn’t much of a life at all.

So I pressed on and weathered my cold demeanor. I fought the blizzard of my mind and braved the dragon of my despair and found that I was not strong but weak. I stared too long at the pieces and saw I could not bear what I had seen. I was broken and I could not fix myself. For in all the world and all the people in the world and in all of creation, I saw reflected in the shards of my broken heart the most loathsome and horrid and cruel of persons.

I deserved nothing and no one.

Yet in the winds of a valley and the rustling of ancient pages, a voice found me. It seemed a gust of air to me and it swirled and swept up the painful shards and carried them beyond sight and stars.   It was a beauty I could scarcely comprehend, a savior from the most dreaded pain I had ever known and the worst enemy I would ever face… myself.

Behold, he found me there, in the midst of a heartless and void existence and gave me what I could not repay. A new heart formed from the blood of love incarnate, shaped by the same hands that moulded the heavens and placed by the same breath that brought forth life.

My sense of worth mattered little now, for as I had counted the stars I lamented that I was low and of no account, and now that I saw love, I rejoiced that he was great and of all importance. It would be no wearisome task to count the blessings he bestows, though all the twinkles in all possible night’s skies could never be their match. For in their immensity I am reminded.

I am never alone again.