Passion

It lies in us all.

Sleeping. Waiting.

And though unwanted, unbidden it will stir.

Open its jaws, and howl.

It speaks to us, guides us.

Passion rules us all.

And we obey.

What other choice do we have?

Passion is the source of our finest moments.

The joy of love. The clairty of hate. And the ecstacy of grief.

Somtimes it hurts more then we can bear.

If we could live without Passion,

Maybe we could know some kind of peace.

But we would be hollow.

Empty rooms; shuttered and dank

Without Passion,

We would be truely dead.