The curve of the seashell is painted as carefully as the waves that deliver it to shore.
The seasons turn like clockwork, the flowers fold and unfold, and the world turns on its axis with a silent grace. None of these things happen by chance. Rather, they move according to a wondrous and masterful symphony: the rhythm of the Universe. For even the way a leaf falls is a manifestation of a pervasive intelligence.
Despite being aware of this, we are the only parts of this symphony that forget our role in it. In fact, it is the very role we were created to play.
Even the birds sing before dawn arrives. Can we?
