© JIM FOLEY/MOMENT/GETTY IMAGES
On the crashing shores,
the ebb and flow of sense, I cry—
Feed my famished heart!
Satisfy my yearning
for higher, purer ways.
Quicken my affections
in the radiance of the real,
the shelter of Spirit’s embrace.
The still, quiet voice of God echoes
through thought
resonating, lifting me,
to rest on the cusp of reality
until I see—
You are still with me, Father.
You are always with me,
and I am safe.
—Kim Haig
