Passion turns from a flicker to a roaring flame,
Burns bright and harsh,
That it seems hard to gaze at from the outside.
Only to die a quiet and uneventful death,
Almost a sad one.
But is it?
It is the eventual nature of love,
Everything in nothing,
Only for it to ultimately become that.
If you can't learn its nature, who is to blame?
You know it, you feel it, you need it this time,
But do you?
All is vibrant in those moments,
And they feel like life's most gifted ones.
But a day brings in monotony,
And it is not long before its fire turns to cinders,
Before life is engulfed by the ashes of dying passion.
YOU ARE READING
Beyond the Haze
RandomA collection of journal poetry. The haze of my thoughts often prevent me from living in the moment, and these are some of them.
