Random does not exist

Some vague recognition is playing like a movie heard in the next room...
Things are always arising and dissolving in the world.
There is some design to it that cannot be seen, like fractals: the order inherent in seemingly random or chaotic movement.

Someone has her soul-love leave his body
Someone restores her mother's fig tree
A drought settles in, deep and wide, over the land
Two animals are saved and have a home
A breast prepares to leave
A heart begins to receive

I can almost see the shapes in the random smoke, almost make out the voice in the background, the words it whispers, sweet and low, to each of us.
And then I blink.

Something is balancing here...