Rhyming

Sitting on the edge I felt a strong gust,
Making me feel of a presence august,
I was sure that it must,
Be someone who we all trust.
Although an atheist would have smelt fust,
Or would have thought it to be the dust.
But I as a believer will always degust,
this amazingly beautiful stardust.
Of the one, in whom I entrust,
who makes me to the situation adjust,
Always giving a decision that is just.
When I fall after someone's distrust,
Helps me to readjust,
and stand again, alone, but robust,
Punishing those who are unjust,
Also sometimes using thrust,
And in some extremes cases, simply combust,
Keeping me away from lust,
And if I am down, giving an upthrust.
Never do I reach a state of disgust,
All because of the one who made this crust,
And I hope, faith in him would never rust.