Who tells the waves of the ocean to roar?
Who chooses the songs of the birds?
And who writes the music for the passing wind,
and is the author of the mortal's words?
Who tells the stars when to come out?
And who creates sunshine and rain?
Why do you think you are living this moment in a place free of worry and pain?
Did you ever think that miracles were already scheduled and planned?
Can you even fathom that all you see was made by the palm of one hand?
Yet you say there is no answer to all the questions we perceive.
And with the proof and faith there is you still but disbelieve.
Try to measure the number of hairs on your head or the freckles that rest on your face.
I laugh at the souls who attempt to count the diamonds that breathe up in space.
There is but one solution that most minds overlook.
If you cannot believe until you see, look around you; read the Book.