Whirlwind – A Poem

There is a


inside of me. It often

Storms and



When I’m unable to let it out,

I find that it erupts,

filling the air with white ash

when I open my mouth,

my words burned to nothing

when they touch the air.

Other times,

It is a torrent water of that






from my eyes.

They drop like small jewels

and I’m struck by their warmth

when the water runs so cold within.

And yet it is also a bright and beautiful


that shines when I put pen to paper

or when I put brush to canvas

and let my spirit speak out loud.

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