THOUGHTS

I sat in the middle of a hurricane,

Gazing at the swirls beneath me

Dark and revolting.

I was swallowed by rue,

For these swirls resided in me

Terrifying and arrogant.

I watched as the swirls vanished,

Watching them swim far away

Slow and steady.

I, now, sat in my garden,

Gazing at the butterflies around me

Bright and pleasant.