I know God is the Creator of all and I am but a handful of dust. So why did He create me? The Heavens above -- the dust and the Earth below. A storm appears on the horizon. The sky cracks with a blinding light and the heavens rumble. Soon a fast rain drenches me, soaking through, turning me to mud. It pours and pours. The rivers flow. After the storm passes and many days go by, tender shoots appear from my dusty soil. They reach up toward Heaven, turning to the Light. Soon I am tall and proud -- and covered with thorns. Just as I fear I might have no use, it happens: the purpose of this cycle: With the coming of the Rose and the appearance of Beauty I understand now, Why He is the Creator and I, this handful of dust.