How many stanzas in the springtime breeze?; How plenty the raindrops? As He doth please; There is no meter and there is no rhyme; Yet God's poems always read in perfect time;
__Astrid Alauda, "Poems on Nature"
I've spent most of my life walking under that hovering cloud, jealousy, whose acid raindrops blurred my vision and burned holes in my heart. Once I learned to use the umbrella of confidence, the skies cleared up for me and the sunshine called joy became my faithful companion.