I am always walking on waves
– the formless void of earth
Whose walls are made of the wind
And whose roof is the cloud
Like Peter I sink in the storm
Thinking it is the storm outside
And not the Charybdis within
Although I am looking only inside
I reach up before I look up
Hands have more faith than eyes
What comes into an eye twists
And colors everything wrong
You see with your hands
And not with your eyes
It is the things that touch you
That you can believe in
And it is not until I have sunk
Enough to need to look up
At the hand grasping for me
That I truly see the storm
The waves the paths of the sea
Ordered by the wind of the Spirit
Under the protecting cloud and fire
Raining down grace upon me
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