We cannot fathom all the connections.

As you sit there in silence, confusion and loss, your life splits a watery surface that everyone floats upon ceaselessly.  Water bows and pearls off the sides.  A wake forms without your movement, without a word.

You are the feather uncaring about a soft landing, observed by others.  Drift without purpose and you still block the wind.

You are the thrown rock laying on the pond bottom…before the ripples reach the shore.  You will never see what each concentric ring moved, shifted and stirred, never.

At times you will be the sea captain, plying waves that are rogue artifacts of the wake you made early hours prior…so swiftly have you gained on yourself in ignorance.

God is all of what you can’t know at once, but you are part of it all at once, always.