He is always there, always in the space between inhale and exhale.
When I pick up a rock, I feel the rough claws that have dashed over it, the gentle bare feet that brushed it. The steel that sliced it and ground it to gravel. The cool rivers that smoothed it, sparkling in sunlight thousands of years old. The lava that birthed it at the beginning of the world - yes, all of this in the history of a rock. Older than him. Ah, but the Shui wouldn't want me saying that. They like to say he's older... but I know. When he ran me through, I saw his birth...