How fantastic it is to imagine a creator, a force behind this wondrous mystery of life. Could it really be possible? Could life and death still be life? Am I just another aspect of the cycle of life, of soul? Who is this power that creates such beauty? This mystery is beyond my powers of contemplation. It humbles me, it puts me into perspective, it makes
everything else seem so much smaller. Life. Where do I begin to wonder about it? Is accepting the mystery enough or do I need to solve it in order to enjoy it? Perhaps I am only meant to accept and live with the mystery in order to participate, to stand in awe before that which I can probably never fully understand. Today, at least, that will have to do.

Today my jaw will drop.

What had that flower to do with being white, The wayside blue and innocent heal-all? What brought the kindred spider to that height, Then steered the white moth thither in the night? What but design of darkness to appall?- If design govern in a thing so small
Robert Frost