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My tornado is resting
Tempestious beauties, a ravenous storm.
Drifting on sunbeams, to where the land's torn,
And then from the sunshine the terror comes forth,
Ripping through gold and setting on earth,
The turbulent winds of change come about,
Tearing up grasses with an echoing shout,
A cry from the clouds as the currents grow strong,
Helping this storm to now move along,
The feverish thunder ruptures pure skies,
Lightning forks down, with quick surprise,
Splitting the stone and splintering wood,
I just continue to gaze from where I am stood,
My tornado is resting, I cannot take part,
Though the weathers urge me, I'll hold back my art,
For my soul is no longer the ways of the storm,
It is something new, something fresh born,
And though the light still sparks from my eyes,
And the cracks from the heavens still make me alive,
I now know that as I rest, the more unique I become,
The atmosphere calms now, with the setting of the sun.
