26 December 2012
Though passion plays that solemn part,
extends with fire it's painful art, though it may bay and bleat like waves,
and fill with doom it's empty caves,
though it may write with inky venom,
and display it all, within a plenum, though it may force verbatim all, that causes beating hearts to fall,
It does not just and only this,
It brings much more, it brings a kiss.
It brings joy such that life creates,
so pain endured soon abates,
brings movement to long lifeless heart,
with that same spark which fires do start,
Brings us to this, and ends to start,
to plotless tales, to you, impart.
Passion • Opuss № I