November 7, 2012

Storms

The middle. The core. The converging point.

Stand there too long and everything becomes blurred. The eye of a tornado...the centre of a twister. The heat is strong and everything around is slipping...melting... disintegrating. Why are there so many sides to the polygon? Which edge is real? Which vertex truly exists? Which surface is solid ground? Holding on is impossible. Detecting patterns is useless. Filtering the noise is painful.

There must be a way to disengage, to regroup, to regenerate.

Inner peace is hard to come by. Will I find the serenity?