this must be oz

Consider me Dorothy,
Disjointed and disoriented
In a land unfamiliar. 

Dazed that there could be any one,
A single one,
Who has seen you Who has known you Who has loved you
And does not presently find themselves
Laying the marble stonework
To the temple with which to worship you.

Instead,
They must find themselves 
At the center of the tornado 
Oblivious to the differentially pressured air
Threatening to destroy it all.
Unaware that you are the holy calm 
Between them and the entropy.
How it would all collapse
If you dared to take a breath.

Have you counted the minutes
Since you last drew air in?
Or are you afraid the knowing
Would tear this world open?