Sometimes I feel life is such a mess. One step can change so many things. So many possibilities are beckoning at me that I am dazzled, This plethora of ‘might be’s’ scares me. I feel too small and the world with all that it holds seems such a big place that I fear losing myself.
Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.
The clock hands were running
in a perfect circle and
a little girl slept soundly
in a cocoon of warmth.
Opening a magical door,
in stepped a lady divine
who watches over all, the
clocks- her minions in disguise.
She kept a present by her side;
majestic in its glory and then
vanished in the blink of an eye.
The girl, delighted to see a
present shining in the sunlight,
tore open the wrapping and
found inside: a page left
blank and a note that said:
With Love, From Time.
Painted In Words 