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He turned to me and wept, the little secrets of his inner vulnerabilities on exhibit for all. His tears, drowning my world to a sea of gray cold lifelessness; a world without rhythm or heart. His hand grips mine tightly, an emotional anguish that digs at my resolve, my gift for compassion. He seeks me like a child would his mommy and I am there for him.

"That one knows the secret," one said from above. "He has the gift of insight."

"We shall see," they all replied.

I put my arms around his waist and pull him to me, placing my chin gently on his broad shoulder as we stand chests together. With my lips to his ear I whisper melodies of love, causing the strings in his heart to vibrate in chorus. It is a harmony of grace; a duet of hearts bringing civility and compassion back to a world not worthy. In an explosion of color and joy, his being is restored, my obligation fulfilled.

"Things are as they should be," they all agreed.