passion

         life,without passion is nothing more then existence,similar to  the hood made in a production line of an auto factory,just there,one of countless others,all the same.good or bad,it is what composes our most cherished or fervent memories,depicts who and what we are.our souls,the core of us,is lit by the corollas of our passions,colored by the tempest of our feelings,vivid from the darkest black of hate to the soft, luminescent white of love,with all the colors in between.the passion of living,being alive,experiencing life in all its glory,its pitfalls,deep morasses of seemingly endless depths of despair,the thrills of soaring above all when love strikes with unabated fury,tearing at your existence with a rainbow of feelings.ah,yes,to others,whose passions are stirred by the more materialistic things,i do not lessen the depth of your passion,or even disagree with the reason,it is still passion.
         to soar with the eagles,unashamedly i concede,that which rocks my world is love.that thing that makes my journey in life a trip worth making,the fears,uncertainty,the glow,the myriad experiences that i am incapable of describing for it runs in a river of emotions,colored by the suns rays ,a prism of emotions,with whirlpools along the journey tempting to moods of despair,or hopelessness,then slinging you into the mist of vapor ,a kaleidoscopic of beautiful colors,sparkling with truth and hope.the moment where you stand naked before someone,fully dressed,unashamedly,quivering with fear,stating,i love you,the first time,here we stand ,unprotected,offering our self,defenseless and at anothers mercy,this is the height of my passion,the Everest and sky scraper from which i leap with no parachute.
          even now,i find myself questioning my thoughts,as i write,am i wrong to feel this way,is it not better to develop more passion in the things the world depicts as an indication of success.money,the trappings of fame ,fortune,a lifestyle of the jet set.in order to achieve the capability of being honest with myself,i must bow my head in humility and say that all those things mean little to me,in my pursuit of self happiness.watch me,raising my head,look into the my eyes,let the fervor and passion exploding from them,tell the truth of  who i am,lover of love,being loved,my passion expresses it self with no ability to hide it.i have tried,throughout my life,to deceive myself into believing it,love,is not as important,to replace it with things of a more material bent,but and here i state,with a touch of sadness,for myself it just does not work.my sadness comes of knowing this i can not buy,or accept in falsehood,for love,batters at you with its honesty,allowing no lie in its purity,and harboring with in,springs forth when least expected,its truth undeniable and scathing in its fierceness.
          passion for the other facets in my life,work,those things i do in relaxation,joy of the arts,living in itself,i acknowledge.i do not deny the importance,their place in my life,the beauty,or despairity that these have brought into my life.who among us does not recall the joy of a job well done,the passion that erupts from within thru the introduction of man kinds artistic work,art,music,perhaps a book or poetry.that feeling of inadequacy,the high from overcoming and surmounting it,through our own force.life without these,pales,less full,and maybe hollow.passionate in these facets of our lives,like the lights and decorations on a christmas tree,without the tree,still pretty,but not shown in their best light.living,its own passions,seem empty without love.friends,acquaintances,even strangers,we share the daily bounty of our lives,passion that we experienced in the conquest of  the day.a filter of people,we strain our life through,while without admission,we search for the pearl.
         success,at life,knowing we have not failed,even to be at the pinnacle of it all,the one failure that can destroy us,the question most asked,what if?in life's journey so often we ask ourselves this and ponder on the consequences,dealing with the fact that maybe i should have and move on.what if,kills,in love.the answers we conceive,stay with us,questioning all of the rest of our existence,never failing in its honesty,or obstinacy,to hit us when least expected.the one question,showing our own failure,lack of strength,and belief in self ,the question that chips away our own self portrait,with honest candor,unabashedly not even with our permission.passion,humility,honesty and pain even here we dwell in maybe the big lie,what if,question,do we dare?the fear,is it not safer,not to face the rejection,the question,what if,how often can you deal with its honesty.the question,your life,the unasked,its passion forever coloring your life.