The Eye of the Calm within The Storm NaPoWriMo6

The tempest unfurls her fury,

Flinging branches like match sticks.

Roofs sent across streets.

Menacing clouds fill the skyline.

Yet at the center all is calm.

The golden lines spread out 

Rise up and back down; a torus 

Is formed. Frictionless energy. 

The storm cuts a path through the wood

While the mighty oak, a symbol of strength 

Becomes uprooted in gusty winds.

Yet the sapling bends, 

Its greenwood helps it survive.

While it is thrashed to and fro,

It knows this helps its strength to grow.

Just when it feels ready to break

The winds and clouds dissipate.

Golden rays of sunlight stream down

And warm the air all around

While tattered leaves bask in their golden glow,

Enjoying the break before it is time again 

to dance to and fro. 


Image: google

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