Everything is intertwined--
every lie has some truth smeared in the center--
yet not all things are equal.
An ant is not divine,
and yet is created with mastery.
Who can produce something with identical intricacy?
Everything is connected,
yet everything is separate and unique.
Each grain of sand, shaped differently than the others--
each blade of grass--
every star in the sky--
each has its own name.
Each has been called,
is known in whole by One,
voiced in love and perfect wisdom.
Only He knows their true name--
they know his voice.
Others try to imitate it,
but his tones are recorded in their minds.
No one can copy Him to perfection.
No false voice can draw them astray--
He holds them in his hand--
closely, but not with a death grip--
protective, but not confining--
so that He never loses them.
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