Passion

True Passion does not end with a climax or begin with a suggestion. True Passion is alive always within one's soul.

Beauty is but the preference that the mind speaks to the soul and to which the soul returns with an answer.

I make the promise to always return to the other side of the mountain. Eternally, I cross to the far river bank. But to which side of the river and to which mountain valley will my promise remain unfilled?

Who is the master
of such paint and plaster
and who settles his seige
by his worth?

For wisdom and laughter
don't always come after
the artist has envisioned
new birth.

My love is not a game.
It is a lullaby
that rings sweetly in your ear
the meanings that my heart has wish to fulfill.
I don't know what I don't know.
But I don't fear anything.
I don't know what I don't know.
But I can't face that now.

What happens
when breathing stops
for a day?
When the intoxicating
sweetness of life
without air
clears your head
for the first time?
By holding my
breath I know I
must die.
Quell the existence
that I have always known.
But what would I
want to live for
if I can't have this
moment forever?
Walk with me for
a second.
Dream with me
for a year.
Stay with me
for an instant
before I breathe again.