~ The only thing we take with us is love ~
"Can you hear it?" he said, placing his child's little hand over his ailing heart. "Great men do as they feel. It's there, all the time. Listen."
As a child, Julius was unable to understand his father's dying words, but on this cold December night, a glimmer of light fell upon him when he found himself standing in a sad pool of regret. A rich man, with the world at his fingertips, Julius never listened to his heart. Now that it was time for him to enjoy life, there was nothing he could call his own. Clutching the railing, desperately holding onto life, he understood his father now. The voice within is the messenger of all. Foolish, irrational, even reckless at times, life is about moments. The cold air fueled his lungs as he stood suffocating, soaked in confusion. Warrior ways about him, ready to fold the battle of brutal stagnancy, he had no moments. He had everything, yet he had nothing of value in his life. It was not his father's voice he heard. It was Louisa. She stopped him by placing her delicately sculpted hand over his aristocrat thin long fingers and gently moved them from the railing, looking deep into his eyes. As if she heard his thoughts, as if she heard his cry, Louisa said: "Things are not so bad." Denial is neglect of self, ignorance of soul and a blatant disregard of man's greatest gift is the choice to be kind. "The answers are within, he said. Should I tell her how I feel? Louisa, I - "