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Words of Passion

by Steven Craig



Words are just what I feel at the time I feel it, and the time of feeling is always fleeting. Emotions are deep and moving, but even in the deep, there is always changes, for with change comes growth, and with growth, understanding of the place in which we dwell.

We have always battled the place we are, the place we become. We battle it, because we would have it be the way we desire, and not the way it is. But the way it is, is never changed, and we exhaust ourselves in the contest with the wills of stone.

We do not see and do not believe, for it is dark when we open our eyes. And the light of day is always slow in coming to us. For many, it will well take years to see clearly what life truly is, and where it is we stand within that place of the living. For many, the memories of death, be it a loved one, a dear pet, or our first love, death is always the stronger of the forces we battle, and still, with the will to live, we prevail not in victory, but in holding it off just a little longer.

I have touched the face of the stars, and I have felt the hold of fear, and seen death in my hands, and given new life with those same hands. In my soul there is a place that will not yield, will never surrender, will not stop fighting against all that suppresses and hates. And that same will and power will always love and extend a hand and care for a child and an old woman and the ones trodden under and those with no hope.

Life is what life is, and I have only mine. I have done with it what I would do again, and I will not see the clear path offered by a hand that offers nothing. I am a dreamer you say, but am I not actually the dream? Is not the dream that which offers nothing but hope, gives nothing but itself, and cares more for the ones loved than for itself? We can never expect that a dream will be what it is when we are asleep, and then awake to both the bright and cloudy days.

In all desires, there is always more than we expect, and what we expect is always more than we need, and what we need is always more than life ever offers without one who intervenes and takes from life the extra step to complete the desires. In that circle, is all the fragile tokens of our souls, the trembling heart that fears to love again after a pain blinding, but only to you. In that circle, are all the memories, and those ideals we hold all to. When we reach that circle, we care and love more intensely than any river will ever flood, and those cares and those loves once hurt, once neglected, once frightened, will never be innocent again.

It is the innocence that makes us lead our lives into our first love, and it is that innocence that makes us believe ever so firmly that it will never end. In that faith that we had then, we could have lived forever on the wings of a hope and a drop of water.

It is when we awake, and find ourselves hard against the cold stone, and the freezing moss is collecting under our nails, and we look about us and see the world as it always was when it was hidden by our passions, only then do we realize what life really means. For many, it means that they abandon all and wilt into sorrow and remorse and become mere shadows that pass in the day, and are invisible in the later hours of the night.

I awoke, and remembered myself, and all the love and passion and the fires and the future as it beckoned to me. And on that cold stone amongst the moss and lichens, I swore never to fade into the shadows and never to make of my feet stumps rooted only in the unyielding earth. I am alive, battered, but alive. And where the dark nights seem hopeless, I light the way. I have my armor and my sword, and the light is in my eyes and the flame is still in my heart. And the road is still there for my taking and the path that was closed and was overgrown with the scum of the world will open before me and allow me, and who ever it is that I choose to take with me there, that path will open for us, and we together shall pass there to whatever it is that does await us both at its end.





*Footnote I do not remember what made me write those words... but it was a powerful moment. It brings me chills to read those words of passion. They come from a depth that I do not fathom now, for I live my life as the words point, and breath as the words swell and see as the words cast their lamp light upon my steps. Words of passion will always be my personal hallmark. They are a window into the darkness of a soul that carries my name, and all the days of my life still deeper in its grasp.

06/26/2006

Posted on 06/27/2006
Copyright © 2020 Steven Craig

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Marjorie Anne Reagan on 06/27/06 at 02:16 PM

Intense and beautiful, ringing the bell of truth!

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