In the room of sacred stairs,

I walk higher into the mysterious mist to find an eeri exit door.

In the room of pens,

They silently walk across the wrinkled paper.

In the room of heat,

Ice melted as fast as a cheetah galloping to eat its tasty prey.

In the room of calm storms,

Thunder doesn’t hurt anyone.

Int the room of tornadoes,

They swirl like a race car wheel ready to move.