Passion

Passion has been a rider with spurs
A glaze of ice and a cloak of flame,
A rocket that soared me to the skies,
And a will o' the wisp through swamps of shame.

Passion has been a wound and a hurt,
A joy, a song of blinding light,
Burning dawn and a mystery,
Shackles and wings for godlike flight.

All of these it has been, and a teacher too,
Cause when it wanes I shall never grieve it.
I'll only sigh with a smile to say,
"Now at last, I can take or leave it".