At the heart of the tornado...

Years of struggling within has come to a standstill, questions stirring the turmoil have for the moment faded away, the shrilling noise has dissolved away into a distant silence, that envelopes the vast emptiness beneath the dark brooding clouds, the tornado has finally stopped.

Poised between a moment of violent flurry and and a moment of sublime peace, the tornado pauses and watches as streaks of light travel and break through the clouds in a slow dance of ruptures and explosions.

The tornado waits, looks on to the slowly appearing sun. The heart has now begin to stir, in a calm swirl-pool of colors and dreams, the furry rises again. The tornado is still waiting. It writhes and wrenches, muffling the screams of its agony, fighting against the heart, holding on to it.

The swirling gets faster and faster, pulling the wind along, the tornado screams, louder and louder. Mad streaks of lightning scorch the tornado and agitate it from within... the flurry rises and rises, going out of control, breaking through.

With a shriek that echoed through ages, the tornado explodes into a deluge of bright colors. Speckles of dreams drift through pillars of light breaking through the clouds. The tornado is still there, still waiting, calm, and patient, as time comes to a halt, and dreams move on.