by Mark

The twista came.
Converging at blistering
Patterns. Uprooting
What had centered
Worldly beliefs.
It beckoned, and
We complied.

But, the swirling winds
were not to be feared.
Forcing feet to split
Sending sweet songs
Of Apollo.  Winds just
Kisses of Aphrodite on lives
Leveraging  joyous  vertigo.

A tumultuous twista.
Raging in, ringing ears
Easily, not fearfully.
Spreading sentiments
Of bliss breathing
Life back to
Soil-less trees.

-Mark J