My Father clothes me,

in blankets of stars fastened by his hands; He carries me

over seas torn apart by churning waves and tossing driftwood,

He sustains me,

holds me,

still,

in His arms; a fortress against the indignant winds and raging tide.

My Father; His calm washes over me, a peaceful bliss,

saturating the air with His Spirit,

even the waves sigh.

Be still.

Silence your wandering mind, quiet

your thundering ears and listen, to His love

as it pierces the stillness.

Our Father is everywhere.

By Riah Raine

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