You see, we are just so many blades of grass,
Carefully interwoven into bracelets worn on God’s wrists.
He twirls them absent-mindedly, moving us in mysterious and strange ways.
We awaken, sometimes, our dreams still tangled up in our hair.
Vaguely remembering an ocean, the cerulean blue, the flash of white fish belly, the back and forth, push and pull of the strong tides.
We are thrown up on the sand by the waves and end up
Dragging ourselves on our bellies to a dry cave, where we lie, breathless.
All of our ashes are here. All of the lives we have lived or could have lived have burned down to this.
And still, He twirls us around and around.
