I have no arms to take up
against misfortune's darts.
When waves crash,
and whirlwinds sling sharp shafts,
I etch a grim grin on my tough facade
and retreat, recoil,
shrink deep within my shell
alone with echoes of the troublesome sea,
more strident than the storms outside.
I stir up squalls long past,
spin showers into cyclones,
and drown again,
ensnared in my own shield.
The barnacle that's anchored
on the boulder's solid side
learns to weather scathing storms,
awaits the soothing tide.
And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall. Helaman 5:12