Random nothingness and it’s all begun,
Into the hearth, into the
Belly of passion, not as
An explosion, but as
Magnetic stillness
As the North Star
Or meteorite in motion
Eye finds without sight
And scope
In that instant, a fleeting part
Of an arc, and it seems
So immense, so auspiciously
Random as it
Comes into the core.
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
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