Inside the Tempest

He stood, steady as gravity itself,  

commanding the wild rush to rest.  

Thunder softened under His voice,  

waves folding into a cradle of calm.  

What might it take to know this––  

stillness beneath the chaos of us?  

The storms arrive, as they always do,  

slamming windows, shattering fragile quiet.  

But what of the voice within storms,  

the tether anchoring us to steady ground?  

What if trust could rise like the sun,  

peeking golden above splintered rooftops?  

Inside each howl is a hidden whisper,  

a voice carrying the scent of peace.  

It calls us to stay, to see past fear,  

to rest in what holds beyond the breaking.  

The sea is quiet now, glass under feet,  

and the wind curls into a gentle hum.  

He reminds us: calm was never far,  

only waiting for us to wake to it.