Call her "Tempest", for hers are eyes of storm.
Winds of passions held at bay, a torrent of tears uncried,
fires bound in those confines yearn to flash unchained into the night;
and peace is seldom found behind the clouded walls in the eyes of storm.
Her face reveals no inference nor her manner does supply
the slightest indication of the tumult found inside.
Her twisted tresses hint with subtlety
the sorrows 'neath veils of lashes bound.
A sharpened tongue and razor wit, iced cold with frigid stares
are evidence more of the battle fought within erstwhile founts of tears.
The clouds spiral ever faster and the waves mount higher still.
The tormentuous seas have victims claimed, for none have yet them tamed.
Within those eyes of Tempest rage the unsettled memories
of sailors many and those to whom the task proved beyond reach...
for yet has one to brave those eyes and weather well the gale...
to find the calm I know is there within the eyes of storm.
I thought once to be a sailor...to face undaunted her winds and rain.
Methinks I once caught sight of sun amid her skies of darkened gray.
I know the calm is in there...in the heart of this hurricane,
'though I doubt it is I who'll find the peace deep within the eyes of storm.
Yeah. call her "Tempest", call her "Storm" call her "Calamity",
but fear not the rain,
nor waves she'll hurl in direction thine,
For somewhere beyond her wall of clouds
is Eden in the eyes of storm.