When storms come I rarely see mercy
And I think that I have been left behind
“I do not hear the voice of God.”
and so I continue a slave.
When whispers come to me
in the darkest of nights
I say to myself,
“I cannot see God or the edge.”
and I give in to the waves as they come.
If in this trial by life
I were to see His face
I think I would not recognize it
and would go my own way on.