Passion, seeking it's source in crisp new light. As if pondering eyes closed for the night had visions of such beautiful things. Awakening with the mad dash energy equipped to accomplish. But as the day grows stale, each ticking moment reasonably tying all the loose tentacles of passion together -tidy, severing it's energy. Soon the drive falters. Roads grow simple and easily travelled. Passion no longer speaking softly throughout your being, that soft cooing of wants and needs and got to please... they all roll over in their beds. Awaken in morning light calling loud and to be stifled by the day growing old. Waking up in passion and sleeping like a log.
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