Eye of the Storm

I take a breath but forget to breathe. I move but stay firm on the ground. Life is like that for me. Each day becoming what has been, what is now. If I could open my mouth to the Gods and scream these words of longing, a silent voice would be heard.

If I could express the facets of face I wear to the crowd, you would not know me. Perhaps I would finally know myself.

What would happen if this child, within, danced a storm in my heart and taunted me to feel?
I would become that dance - simple, elegant, yet driven with force - like the wind.

My name would change meaning.

Perhaps a story unfolds through one's eyes. Like the calm before the storm. You would know it was coming. You would know I was there.

But a moment like this, rare as it may be, heightens awareness of Love. And in this Love, you realize that these eyes were a portal and you, my Love, a reflection in the midst of darkness.

What happens, now, when the eye of the storm makes way for the flood?
Perhaps it doesn't matter anymore.
Perhaps the "search" was no movement at all, but the desire to see what was hidden all along.

Then death would become me - and that "center" of Truth would be all that remains.