In the Flow

A stream of water,
as it pours out of a pitcher,
has a particular shape and form,
as it it were a solid thing,
but, as our common sense will tell us,
it is a thing of that moment only,
and will lose its form
as soon as its flow ceases.

And how is the flow of life
any different?

Are we each not eddies
in the ebb and flow
of the flood of life?

In each of our fleeting forms
is a reflection of a great design,
an evanescent facet
of the gem of creation.

That is the gift we are given,
our each-ness in the all-ness,
and is that not enough?