Vast quantities of inebric compounds entered his self, like a bridge over troubled waters, and dispersed, seeking the path of least resistance, melting neurons, pie are emcee square.

A God reeled me in on a string, like a damned yoyo, and then He brushed me off like some unexpected bug crawling up His arm, and I flew (splat) against some cosmic wall, knowing that I must run for all I’m worth lest I get squashed.

I run frantically until I find a safe place, knowing that I’m a bug that has escaped God’s swat.

I am an island in an ocean full of continents.

I wait forever.

In the book of Ecclesiastes, the writer, Qoheleth, considers the hiddenness of God and the apparent lack of reward for the just and faithful or punishment for the wicked in this life. From this perspective, there is no certainty of a causal relation between morality and blessing and wickedness and punishment. Therefore Qoheleth states, “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” (Ecc. 1:2b)

Throughout the history of mankind, signs and symbols have been omens of the future, foretelling good or bad happenings, or what to do to avoid occurences that were not favourable. It was best not to tempt fate by opening umbrellas, walking under ladders or breaking mirrors.