Sing of Passion
Almost unquenchable flame
That I follow to the earth’s ends
With returns ever diminishing.
For you I yearn but your heat
Sears to the touch or you
Crumble into ash.
The pursuit has been the only prize.
Sing of Bliss.
Cool fountain from the mountain dell
Flowing crisply across ageless stone
Dwelling for a time under
Outstretched arms of pine and poplar.
You let me wallow in your waters and
I share you, eagerly, with the world.
Passion and Bliss.
Betwixt are my emotions.
Behind are my dreams.
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