The wind

My thoughts are written down on paper and are kept in a drawer in my mind.
They are well-kept, orderly, and nothing is misplaced.

They are filled with dangers and malign intentions, and outside strangers cannot touch them.
The only person who has the key to this limitless idea drawer is me.

However, occasionally a strange gust of wind blows, rattling and shaking the drawer's knob.
Moving more and more powerful every day, getting closer and closer to liberating those papers

The wind, the enemy, is an expert at revealing.
Of delicately removing my papers, like dandelion seeds on a large field, in order to blow and scatter the seeds in uncharted territory.

I am unaware of its actions until the very last second, when the wind suddenly becomes a hurricane and the drawer is eventually smashed open.

My documents fly away in this hurricane.
twisting, tossing, and creasing.
A total jumble of black and white figures, flying through the air quickly.

I'm trapped in the hurricane's eye.
Jumping and stretching while exhaling heavily in order to grab my priceless papers
Though I am aware that it is not possible.

I had to wait for it to continue before picking up each piece of paper.
I'll eventually find the majority of my thoughts, which I'll put back in the drawer in preparation for the next wind.