Oh, Passion - where are thou?

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Where is that deadly enemy,

that incurable insanity,

that curse, fire, Devil, power, tempest…

All forces of Nature and Man,

untameable, devouring, eternal…

Oh, Passion - where are thou?

They feed you with milk of their tenderness,

these civilised ones of this very polite world,

they know no life or death, love or hate,

dried leaves of expired flowers exist more than them…

Religions, indifference and cruelty as opiums,

Philosophy and Art as a moral ladder and a smoke-screen…

Has any human creature ever existed,

at least the way a rose or a horse happens,

or the way angels struggle to come to being?

It seems that by inventing God, Hell, Vacuum

and all these creations of genius and power,

that creature remains unborn for itself…

So, where is that fearless energy,

that audacious manifest of freedom,

that Heathcliff and Catherine, Faust, Hamlet,

that inhuman and real because of that,

degrading, devastating and redeeming,

Oh, Passion - where are thou?

This poem I wrote today (27/04) with a dedication to all these fighting to become less politely (read: cowardly, spiritlessly) ‘human’ and more authentically alive by finding and cultivating true passions.

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Tags: skonieczna, Art, writing, poem