The Way

The butterflies have changed. The big black and yellow ones are gone and the Monarchs are starting to filter through the yard. Some have laid eggs and skinny little caterpillars creep around the porch now.

I suppose this is the way of this world. Change occurs in unending cycles, some predictable, others not so.Still, the sun rises in the morning, the moon lies over the mountains and the clouds hover protectively over the horizon.

The ocean still ebbs and flows. Babies are born and people die. The symphony of life continues without any consultations with me. I am only one note among millions, in harmony with some and discordant next to others.

I wonder if I chose my creator, or my creator chose me?