Shockwave on water,
in every direction
there is soft
slow
yet tumultuous motion.

All of this rippling,
is this what the skipped stone sees
before it sinks into the cool water?
Looking back
towards the hand that sent it soaring
does it see
all the places it kissed the surface,
all of the stillness it disturbed?

How large is the hand of God?
To have scattered us all
across the surface of this world
to have hurled us all
out across the expense of time
skittering
towards that far off horizon
until we lose momentum,
and faltering
for a single moment too long
we plunge through the glassy surface
and descend
into whatever it is
that awaits us on the other side,
entering this life
dazed and confused
wondering
about all those other places
we touched
and may have broken through.