Like the tiny fingers of the musical notations that form a symphony, the intricacies of life sweep us through the motions in accordance with the orchestration of the Great Conductor. There are moments when we face the music of hope, and there are moments when we are confronted helplessly by the alarming tunes of despair.

For some, the deafening sound of despair thunders endlessly like a bottomless abyss. The resounding voices of chaos composed of a plethora of notes falling beyond the range of our finite threshold propel us into the chorus of unreason and absurdity. At this point, the tune loses its rhythm. We then know no longer how that tune is to be carried in its entirety in the absence of understanding.

At this point, all that is left for us to do is to carry the tune allotted to us note by note, line by line; even if it means playing a melody that fails to harmonise with the wider symphony which falls beyond our range of comprehension. It is about trusting the capability of the Great Conductor as he collates these notes together to form a symphony of praise. It is about yielding to the depth of the Great Conductor's wisdom, submitting that he alone knows the worth of a symphony that is composed of the sweat, blood, and tears of those he loves.