A tornado am I,
A disturbance in the heavens,
A knot in the atmosphere,
A whirlpool of emotions and thoughts

My pleasures and pains,
Swirling clouds of vigor in my body.
They come and go,
Ebb and flow.

How am I to put a stake in the ground
And claim that I love or hate
When it is all a passing whim?
Where is this “I” that strives to learn
To vanish well and yet be so stern?
Is not this “I”
The very center that tries to die?

Such a wonder this “I”.
Should it have any power at all,
Let it transform itself
From this rush of wind,
this torrential wall,
Into a gentle breeze,
Almost forgettable,
That tenderly reminds the earth
That it is there,
Like a whisper
Uttered so softly

In the beginning, God said: “For the love of Drama …” and everything came into being.