For the Quaking Soul
Why fly into the storm, tempting fate?
I do all I can to avoid it–to find the peaceful place, the safe place.
But as the clouds foment and winds increase,
you ride the thermals as though it were a carnival ride.
Up, up, and around,
floating,
calling all your friends,
thrill-seeking as the blustering storm swirls its danger.
And I wonder.
Would I find peace in the storm if I could ride the thermals?
Is there a sheltering place unseen to the quaking,
right there in the middle of the tumult?
Hmm. I’m hearing the Small Voice:
I ride the thermals;
you need only hang on.
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