In the Cyclone

Swirling shades of gray.
Blank.
Pounding. Pounding. Pounding.
In my head. In my heart. Swept by the wind.
Desperate. I sort through the images.
Ripping pages of empty scrawl.
Knowledge without a heart,
Without a soul.
Devoid of hope.
There is more to this, I say.
Words, Love, Meaning.
No. Focus.
Lines. Method. Absolutes.
Deviate, and fail.
Because I am not Dorothy.
This is not Oz.
For, when led by bricks,
I still fall.