That amidst all of this struggle, our hearts can find rest. Even when the void creeps in around you, it is Light that will win. So child, take up your courage, quiet your mind. They are only the strains of living, the vibrating of the strings. We have to learn to see the beauty in the struggle, play on when our fingers bleed. Let us take existence, in all of its substance, and count it all a blessing. This life will stretch and mold you; we're only aching from the growing pangs. And this beautiful thing remains: that no matter how we mistrust the light, we're all waiting for morning.