Fate's storm swirls, shifting direction fast,
Chasing you, no matter how hard you forecast,
Turn and turn, but the storm adjusts its pace,
An ominous dance, with death's dark embrace.

Why does it haunt? Why does it never cease?
Because this storm is born from your own release,
A tempest inside, that rages and roars,
A reflection of your deepest, darkest shores.

So surrender, step into the swirling sand,
Close your eyes, plug your ears, and take a stand,
Walk through the storm, step by step, blind and slow,
No sun, no moon, no direction to know.

Just fine white sand, like pulverized bones,
Swirling up, in a maddening, endless moan,
That's the storm you must face, and walk through alone,
To find the peace, that lies beyond the unknown.