Quiet, Be Still
Violent winds stormed and the boat seemed skulking toward wreckage.
Still a small voice simply whispered,
Out tuned from the wailing, the waiting, the howling,
“Everything is okay. Child, everything’s gonna be alright.”
It’s all okay.
The wrestle, the condition, even the storm’s suspense and the fear.
Quiet, be still.
All it takes three words.
And the rain holes of the sky will just shut,
the windstorms will fade, and the darkness begone.
Quiet, be still.
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