The voices inside of me are numerous,
Some are placid while others are thunderous,
I stand in the midst of turmoil,
But the voice of serenity is stronger than the voice of thunder,
Though I wallow in the heap and debris of today's consternation,
I will not be suppressed by the hands of doubts,
But I will dance in the puddles,
For I am secured by the wings of courage,
When I get caught up in the order of results,
I will live by the Freedom of resurrection,
I am the work of the storm,
I have drank from the well of rejections,
I have eaten from the plate of frustration,
I have bathed in the pool of dejection,
Yet I am standing in the heat of confusion,
Holding onto the hands of the resurrection,
I have been shaped and fashioned from toils of unrequited love,
I have been labelled with the seal of undeserved love,
I am a work of the storm,
A product of the wilderness storm,
But not given up yet,
I know that the maker is making me into a finished product that will enthrall great buyers,
He is making my story a better glory,
I need not to worry,
He is rewriting my story.