To Bivouac in the 'I' of the Storm

A continuation of  yesterday's word play.

After spending much of my life
in the midst of a nigh on endless monsoon,
and believing I was a part of the storm,
I am beginning to cultivate
a strong sense of inner peace.
Where I once believed
that my pain and weariness
made me feel alive,
I know now that I had simply
grown used to surviving.
I would weather the tempest
because that was all I knew;
true peace was foreign to me.
So now, with my new awareness,
I call upon my higher self,
I call upon Mother, Father, God
to help me bivouac in the 'I' of the storm.

With God's impenetrable bulwark of grace,
no gust or gale shall sweep me off my feet.
With God's all encompassing, comforting love,
no almighty onslaught shall cause me to question my safety.
And with the divine knowledge
of God's unquestionable steadfastness,
no tempestuous squall shall tarnish
my hard-earned tranquility,
my precious peace.

In this treasured moment, I now know
that whenever the high winds and heavy rains return,
that I can simply pause, take a deep breath,
and picture the perfectly made
bivouac in the 'I' of the storm
and watch as my calmness
and my stillness radiate from me.