Eye of the storm

In the eye of the storm, a mosaic of flame,

It gazes through prisms that whisper your name.

Each shard of red, of orange, of light,

Holds stories of dawn and mysteries of night.

The geometry spins, so precise, yet wild,

With colors as fierce as the heart of a child.

This eye, it sees all — the fractured and whole,

Reflecting the fire deep in your soul.

Its lashes are rivers, its iris a flare,

Drawing you in with an unspoken stare.

Like a portal to realms where time stands still,

It swirls with a power that bends to your will.

A window to dreams, a mirror to fate,

In this universe of shapes, it opens the gate.

It watches, it listens, it knows what you seek—

In the silence of flames, it allows you to speak.

An eye of creation, where chaos aligns,

In every reflection, a thousand designs.