Eye of The Storm

My mind’s eye

The eye of the storm,



Yet eerily calm, centered.
Chaos encircling every which way

Tornadoes spinning,

Storm clouds approaching,

Yet my breath is in harmony with the still night.
A child once wondered,

What color is the eye of the storm?

The question forever unanswered,

As no one has ever gotten close enough to find out . .

Yet, the eye reflects all the colors of nature unto the world,

As the storm rages past.
Once quiet,

What remains?


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