The world is an ancient stone, rigid and immovable, and we are but water, rolling across its surface, leaving an ephemeral trail before we sink beneath its skin. So short are our lives that the stone seemingly remains unchanged.
Given enough time, the rain can shape a stone. Each drop's minute contribution, adding up over time, hews the stone's rough edges. But there is no grand design here. There is no individual guiding the stone into a useful form, only natural forces. Chaos.
But what if that weren't the case? What if there was someone guiding the rain? Someone able to plan far past the fleeting lives that limit us?
