Passion.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

one thing with passion is that it is always burning
one wonders
where is the source of this hearth?
why are the flames so red and high that at times the become like
tongues of fire
licking the skies?

one thing with passion is that it is hardheaded and despite
the signs of weakness due to massive heating
exhaustion that sets in like a disease
it continues just the same as though it does not know what death is all about

the passion that makes us alive but which kills us though
a drug that forgets time's race against itself
this passion that does not know who are friends and who are enemies
leveling people like a straight line of the horizon
where the sun finally sets
and dies with the
darkness of the night

this is the last thing about passion
it finally meets eternity and somehow you just do not know it
when it comes and takes you away to its permanent home