It is written
that still waters
run deep.

Alas,
so often stillness
is a temporary
calm.. in prelude
of a storm,
indeed.

Verily, verily,
I say unto thee..
I only speak
of that which I
can see.

I hear
the whistling
and singing of
The Tempest’s
winds..
I feel their
loving touch
of hot and cold
upon my skin..
but where it
cometh from
and where
it goeth..
still remains
unseen.

Perhaps
its somewhere
neither one of us
has ever been..
At perfect balance
of both positive
and negative
polarities..
The stillest point
within The Eye
of an upcoming
storm..
The Singularity.