The night was dark, cold, foreboding
The ark I had hoped never to need
Sat ready and self- sufficient, awaiting the drops
The sky opened with gusting winds 
and torrential rain
The new ocean tossed 
and tumbled my simple craft
All alone a midst waves and thunder
I sit in my misery and wonder if the light will come
Forty days and forty nights passed over my dark soul
As the last drop falls and eerie silence descends,
I feel a new hope spring forth
But the time is not yet right
For my peace-lov...