Passion.

It lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, & though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir. Open it’s jaws, & howls. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, & we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love, the clarity of hatred, & the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we can live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered & dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.



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