How is it that wind
Blowing round my head
Whipping and pulling
Seems as if it is also
Pulling at my hopes?
Pulling at my dreams?
Pulling at my heart?
Is it the wind?
Is it the gloom of the grey skies?
Why is it that the fury of nature
Cannot be always seen outside
But in me?
Not seen by others or even myself
But by myself felt so deeply
Is this separate world of weather and time
Truly a world at all?
It must be the world of emotion of my inward thoughts
As wild uncontrolled and upsetting as the wind
Or as calm assured and loving as the warm sun
The only other knowing of this world
Being its and other world’s creator
The creator and guide of me
Who gives guidance and directs
Not only the storms in this world
But also the storms of this life
The storms inside me
To change even the most fierce storm
Into the calm and peace of sure deliverance
In this I will rest
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