I ran away to the sea last night

I ran away. 
|I ran towards the sea|.
I ran because I was confused; scared. 
The tides are high in my life;
 the waters are coming up a little too close for comfort. 

As {daylight} wisps away, 
the tide grows closer to shore. 
|However|, the tides know what they're doing. 
 They aren't just some untamed anomaly. 
The bright moon leads and guides them in and out.  

Ultimately, that moon is our Creator, no?
 I can just see Him now;
his silky, white beard, bow-tie, 
His almighty hands conducting and orchestrating the movements of each wave. 
Each wave never getting closer than what His hands had conducted. 

They pause when His hands pause. 
They intensify as He conducts. 
The tides never miss a beat, |never| go over the mark.
Residence on shore can go about life in peace knowing the tides will never get higher than what is safe.