It’s hidden away in each drop, invisible yet tangible, a quiet, arid killer’s plot. Where thirst gives way to clever guise, Cold must strive harder to defeat: The salt that never sates but dries Keeps liquid so before the freeze.
The moon’s gravity causes the tides. It pulls the water away from two sides of Earth, which pushes it toward the other two sides. Something one sixth the size of our planet shoves the oceans around. The movie Interstellar showed what it would be like if a supermassive black hole was the moon instead. Waves thousands of feet high make Earth’s puny hurricanes look like ripples in a puddle. What if the Radiance descending on the watery tumult spoke the Moon, spoke Gargantua (and millions like them across the universe) into being? What if that Gravity treated the waters as a nesting hen?
“Ma’am, may I have a drink?” Who is He? Does He think I am someone?
“Why is it You ask me?
Don’t you Jews run and flee
“I am Someone
Who you should have asked first,
And I would quench your thirst
As Jacob’s Son.
At My word, grace-dams burst:
I AM Someone.”
Jesus answered, “If you knew the gift of God, and who is saying to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would ask Him, and He would give you living water” (John 4:10 HCSB).