Thoughts drift round
  never resting on one thing
Bouncing to the next
  a mix of reading, scripture
Thoughts scrambled
  not ready to be clear
Making the batter of growth
  that will come at the end
Until I am stirred again
  adding the ingredients
Of each encounter, thought
  folding into this creaminess
All that God has to teach
  because each one leaves me
Stirring, mixing, tumbling, melding
  remaking what was
Because in the end it doesn't
  matter what comes out
Only that I have paid attention
  to these drifts of space in God