Passion is stirred to a fever pitch,
the blood burns hot in my veins.
A storm rages within my soul,
the winds are high and the waves are fierce,
i see the danger of this rage,
a hurricane bent on destruction of self,
i sit in the eye of the storm,
at the very heart of destruction,
i am the soul of the gathering winds of wrath,
a wrath fed by my passion.
Steam and mist from the stormy waters are caught up by the howling
voice of impending doom.
They gather as rolling clouds on the horizon, eclipsing the light of day.
Thunder rumbles through the clashing storm.
The violent landscape is lit only by the wicked fingers of lightening ripping
through the winds and lashing out across the breaking water.
i am at the eye of the storm,
held aloft by calm winds which soon feed into the hurricane,
i can see nothing through the darkened clouds which envelope my vision.
Yet my soul feels the destruction which evolves from my mind and
pervades my existence, and soon even my soul cannot see ...
i looked on the earth and lo, it was waste and void,
and lo the heavens they had no light. Jeremiah 4:23