The violence of the storm in evening
The silence and calm of the first morning light
He is the warmth and awe
In a sky full of stars
A whisper of the wind at night
There is no reward so great
Than the crisis where we rest on his awesome hand
The darkness of tragedy
Is the beautiful gift we’ll never understand
I blame him for the chaos in the stream
For the darkness after it rains
But he listens in the evening
and knows my pain….
The skies will devour our tiny cities
To show us just as small we are
Our earth beneath us quakes and takes us
But he is constant, the one amazing star
that always finds us in the evening
At our darkest hour
Holds our hand and keeps us safe
in deaths despairing hour
but he is a constant
as the tide that mars the beach with broken shells
and teaches the earth how to share
our broken souls washed up on his shore
the beachcomber is always there….
