this is the passion …

this is the passion …

... with which the deafening beethoven
pounded his piano
the passion
which saw gandhi 
saw the hunger strikers 
dwindle away into just skin and bone  
this is the knife-edged, unfulfilled passion 
which set christ to writhing on the cross 
the passion of life 
which springs up through cracks in the cement
and endures the footsteps of the passing masses

this is the howling 
which followed the early ones 
into the lions' dens 
over the prairies 
across the bulwarks behind the lines of the enemy camp 
which spiraled down with each kamikaze 
and finds its home underground 
in the deep damp woods or city sewers 
among the workers 
of all the past, present and future 
of the world

this is the knowledge 
guarded with the suffering silence 
of untold generations of plain humble wizards  
unrobed, ascetic 
free in their bondage
wand'rers of air 
the burning liquid rolling in waves through their veins  
the burning 
of human torches 
who have yearned to be free 
and who would not be silent 
because the words rose up 
and spilled forth from their tongues like honey 
the draught 
written of all through the ages 
requiring a pure vessel 
for its ultimate 

this is the passion, this  
must be the passion  
nothing can stem its flow  
not my four year old kid's hippo slippers 
not the cold heavy metal  
of all the machinery of all the world 
not my own tender smallness 
not the desire for something to eat or drink  
in this godforsaken place  
where i happened to be
when this happening found me 
not even the shortage 
of paper at hand 
since it after all 
can still be scratched 
in the dirt

this is the connection 
this is the substance 
this was the message they all tried to get across 
this is the desire 
for the life that was ours before time began and  
could be again 
this is the intoxicating  

this is 
and always has been 
the passion



One thought on “this is the passion …

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