What was there once is likely not there next.

I had taken the frog for dead because I approached, slipped, stomped, sat, and leaned in. Close. Too close, I thought, for a living amphibian. But the frog never moved, the eye never blinked, no breath escaped. Today, I could find no evidence of frog -- no indentation in the mud or sign of struggle. No fleshy bit left behind after a scavenger's meal.

Today, many of my friends and some of my family celebrated Easter, a time of new coming that returns every year, a reminder of the rising of a man into his godhood or of a god out of his manhood and of faith at the end of winter turning into spring.
Every day I walk into a new becoming, a reminder of risings and dyings, always turning from what was into what is, making what is what was in less time than I can type a single letter or think it.
Today, I celebrate the constancy of is.