Murm'rings of the Heart

A CANDLE GLOWS Verse 2: A candle glows deep in my heart. For in this heart is the truest love That only God can see. Oh fire of love, burn in my heart! Keep burning, just burning To warm my sweet love! In this cold winter night Keep him warm, safe from harm, Bless his dreams, watch he doesn’t wake To see the storm outside In this lonely night, The raging wind that tries to blow The candle’s glow. My soul shall stay up in the night, To watch my love As a candle glows! There’s Music When Winter drapes the earth with snow, There’s music. When rain refreshes the sun-baked desert, There’s music. When the breeze sings through your hair, There’s music. Music is in every heart that loves And love is in every heart that sees God! When I place a tender kiss upon your forehead, There’s music. When I sing a hurting child to sleep, There’s music. When I cheer a lonely man to life, There’s music. Where there is music, there is love. And where there is love, there is God! Tucked in the Heart of a Mother Last Verse: When you’ve given all that your heart can hold, And bright days still seem austere, Locked in the hollow of the deepest fold Throbs a bead of pain—a tear! Autumn Leaves Summer was reluctant to give up its glory; however, autumn had eventually taken root. It cast its veil upon the day, toning down the brightness of the dying summer. Nonetheless, summer still heaved its final breath upon the trees, setting their crowns to a fiery glow of red and yellow. The trees, in turn, expressed their melancholy over the dying pleasures of summertime, shredding leaves that looked like teardrops falling upon the sun-baked earth. It was alluring to watch the autumn leaves fall. Yellow-brown in color, they sparkled in the orange glow of twilight. As they fell, they turned about and flirted with the breeze that wafted gently to cuddle them and lay them softly upon the grass. They formed a golden mantle that draped the earth. During the day, these fallen leaves were toasted in the sun. A lone jogger, who roamed the parks to nourish his soul with tranquility, found inexplicable joy in feeling the leaves underneath his feet. With every step he made, the dried leaves crackled, breaking the silence and monotony of the lazy afternoons. Gone with the Wind The theater became hauntingly quiet and empty except for one soul, abandoned in his dark loneliness. Grief-stricken, Derek closed his eyes with all his might, releasing the excruciating pain in the tears that flowed down his numb cheeks. He stayed mute and motionless for quite sometime. He wondered how all the pages of his life had been turned right before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it. A mighty gale had swept those pages recklessly. Everything was over, and all so suddenly! Finally, he arose and staggered to the door. He opened and closed it behind him, leaving the world of love and joy that he had known with Bella. Rain was pouring everywhere. Uncaringly, he walked on, etching a senseless path on the dampened ground. The wind blew heavily, beating relentlessly on the laicization papers he still had in his hand. Now, the papers meant nothing to him but a lonely memory of a cherished past. Then, gradually his fingers gave way to the numbness caused by the cold atmosphere. And, feeling robbed of all sense of purpose in life, he lost his grip on the papers. They were soaked and battered in the rain, tossed about and blown away into oblivion—gone with the wind, forever! Nevertheless, what care had he now? Drenched and lonely, he walked on. In the inner recesses of his mind, the sweet voice of his beloved Bella echoed her final song. He walked on and on, devoid of direction, dragging his heavy feet in the rain, unwilling to accept the thought of facing a world of nothingness. The storm continued to rage, but this lone soul walked on pointlessly. His image gradually became smaller and smaller until, swallowed by the brutal rain, it disappeared completely in a vast horizon of futility. The Foreboding …As she looked around her surroundings, she was taken by surprise to realize that, just like at the Eagle’s Nest Manor, there was a huge cedar of Lebanon tree in front of the window. It resembled the old cedar tree. She looked at it and saw in her mind the old tree, still mystically standing in its usual place—loyal, unchanged, and undaunted by the storm. Now, she saw its replica, as though it had followed her to watch over her vigilantly. It was now taking a great beating from the tempestuous wind. Behind it, the glow of early morn hopelessly fought the thick, heavy thunderclouds that hovered threateningly in the dark gray skies. Bella gazed at the mighty tree with awe and compassion. It also bore the configuration of a man laden with a heavy weight upon his shoulder. On the drooping branch of this mystical tree, a tiny nightingale perched. With plumage drenched from the rain, the poor bird planted its claws firmly on the branch to withstand the fierce winds. Feeling its life ending, it sang its most beautiful song that cut through the darkness, lending, for even just a moment, an unforgettable sweetness to the harsh and frightful atmosphere. Nature stilled to listen, quieting even the loudest roar of thunder for a brief moment, until the nightingale heaved from its heart its final note. Then, as its song ended, a solid bolt of lightning suddenly struck the drooping branch on which it perched, producing a frightening, deafening sound. C-R-A-C-K! And down came the branch in a big thump! There was absolute silence—a silence that was the holiest ode to this gentle nightingale, which lay lifeless on the cold, damp earth. Elijah, once again, thank you for all your help. I want you to know that you are a delight to talk to as well. Thank you for brightening my day. Have a wonderful weekend and God bless you and your family.