I Survived a Tornado

He was standing there, Tall, dark, stone. Looming in the shade, Though the sun illuminated everything around him. He stood with a soft somber face, Though his whole was rock, A darkly shaded gray rock, Almost the exact substance of shadow, In an odd, sharp contrast To the bright blue expanse above and around And the glossy green below. This statue stood at almost nine feet tall, On the side of a hill in elsewhere, But I was there -- five yards from him, Sitting on the ground. He faced left, but I knew he was thinking of me; His long, dark robe covered his arms and feet, But his hands were thinking of me, too. The bright hillside around him Became enveloped in clouds Matching his color and comparable to his plan. Suddenly, a cyclone spun above the crescent of the hill, Circling in a carousel and descending toward me. At first, I thought the statue would intercede, But I soon realized he wouldn’t. The tornado was gone, but the clouds still hovered. Bleak yet blinding beams shined through them, But they didn’t leave. The statute still stood, but this time, he seemed to say, “Now, it's coming,” without making a sound and with No movement from his mouth. It came back, and this time I knew it was coming to get me. It called to me with a thunderous roar; I knew what it was, but then I didn’t. Either way, I knew I was about to die. The swirling beast continued toward me. The statue, the sunlight, and the scenery succumbed To the shadow of the nightmare. I held out my hand toward it, Trying to block the sheer strength. I withdrew my hand, I covered my mouth, I closed my eyes, I waited to die. Then it passed over me, And I through it. It was that fast. So much adrenaline gone In not even a second. I couldn’t believe it; I survived a tornado. Then I woke up.