When The Tank Stinks

Her skill sets though narrow, are tried and tested, she has the tools to navigate around our reality without going belly-up. Occasionally, we swim together through the same plastic castles, both observing a suitably awkward silence, for we both understand that God has long stopped speaking through the mouths of those who are supposed to clean our tank. The murk now distorts and divides. Scales fall from our eyes, yet we dare not speak in bubbles anymore. However, the great and unknowable, still guides us, though we often wish we could decipher the meaning of: "A fish rots from the head down."