The Cyclone’s Eye

                                       Outside of the window,
                             Skirting the cast of the falling shadow,
                             It’s standing there- standing, looking at me;
                             Unafraid- knowing I’m able to see
                             Into the place it cannot ever go—
                             Tied and bound by the rules of dimension,
                                       Rules escaping convention.

                                       Like it, bound to it all
                             And with it, within it- trapped in its crawl
                             As I wonder if it is friend or foe;
                             But is it within time that I will know?
                             It is within it that I hear the squall
                             And feel the winds of precipitation
                                       Without hesitation.

                                       What looms within the spin,
                             Known only by he not … but also in.
                             Entering- like the fingers on a hand
                             Into the line- of the entire expand;
                             Entering the now and forever when—
                             And this is how what is not known is known
                                       To him that sits the throne.

                                       Within the cyclone’s eye
                             We live- here is where most of us will die
                             Trying to decide- friend or foe in cold
                             As all of it remains young and grows old
                             And within it we seek- wondering why.
                             Through the eye of the storm, I peer at it
                                       Near the window I sit.

                                       Thinking, often I do,
                             Of the things in time that I know are true.
                             Thinking through thoughts of depression’s choices
                             And hearing answers from outside voices,
                             Reminding me that I already knew
                             That living within time offers free will
                                       And I cause the storm’s spill.