Hark, when the weight of this world doth press upon thy frail shoulders,
and a rain of sorrows ceaseth not from thy weeping eyes, then hearken well!

For the heavens themselves whisper thy name upon the winds. Divine light, it cometh not with the clang of brazen bells, but through the rustling leaves that fall even as thou bowest thy head in despair, through the gentle breeze that doth caress the wounds within thy heart.

Know this, good friend, thou art celebrated not by the fleeting cheers of this mortal realm, but by the very kingdom that lies beyond the celestial sphere.
Angels dance in the heavens above, rejoicing over each tear thou shedst that is not in vain.

And I, though our paths diverge and our eyes meet not, I too celebrate thee, for the answer thou seekest, it knows the way back to thee.

It may tarry in its journey, yet it doth always arrive when the hour is ripe and the time is right. Take heart, and fear not!