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Poem
You throw a rock into a pool.

Watch the concentric ring slowly expand
from its point of origin.
Its curvature infinite. Shape pristine.
And yet... there it dissipates
at the subtle sternness of the wind.
To blend with all the other blemishes
on the surface of the stream.

You try not to think at all,
(is that not the reason you came?)
but, of course, thoughts come nonetheless
as "What does it all mean?"
crawls into your ear,
laying eggs inside your brain.

You gaze into your distorted reflection,
your reflection's eyes gaze back
at the You that comes in three dimensions.

And for just a moment (a brief recollection)
a sudden calm washes over
like a quiet rain
that only announces its presence
to the statue still.
The pieces of the puzzle
you've been forcing to fit,
at long last, soften their edges,
blurs their distinctions.

As I toss another pebble into the stream
yet again.
Thinking to myself (as if to my Maker):
 Did God do the same?

Throw a human into the world,
watch it bounce, watch it skitter?
As a thousand tiny circles unfurl
into a million different contradictions.
From the point of origin...
...expanding ever outwards.
You can't help but wonder:
Where does my ripple end,
and yours begin?
Can my splash linger on
just a little longer than all the rest?
Do I bow my head in despair
as my wave already begins to flatten.
Or hold my head high with these words
held close to my chest:
You did what you were supposed to.
You tried your best.

I know I'm supposed to be Your Image, Oh Lord,
but am I also Your Reflection?
Can I be the Servant to Your Will
but also the Master of My Destiny
(can my fate and free will not always exist
in a constant state of competition?)
Can I do the things you ask me too,
or am I already doing whatever was ordained,
since the day I bounced and skittered
onto this earthly domain?

I don't know if I have the truth,
or if it's futile trying to tear the fiction
from out of the reality.
Is ignorance bliss, joy the aim?
Or is not knowing the malady...

I don't know these things,
but I suppose there are a million others
who are just the same.
We think we are alone in this,
but our common threads
lie in our uncertainty.
So let the world spin like it always has,
don't question its trajectory
but let the enigma be known.
Be the Doer of Things
but also watch yourself doing them
as if from a distance.

Watch God toss another human into the world.
And I...

...I toss another stone.
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