Analysis of Storm: mythical proportion.

Go ahead
Lash me to that mast
Hair away from my eyes
Double-check the rope
Canvas all let loose
I want to feel it
Full force
This huge storm
You head below-decks
The whipping
The shrapnel that cuts
The tearing wind
The voices of lust
Those harpies
Women beasts.
That yank out
The worst in me.
Yes, me.
And I will be broken
Shown my smallness
Shown God's greatness.
And even this worst of storms
My Master's plaything
And servant
And teacher
And conditioner
And composer.
Let the message and music
Unique to this storm
Remain in my ears.
And my heart.
That I might speak
And pray and guide
With something needful.
In weeks to come.
For those who have put
Their trust in me.