My Passion For You

Is a puppy.
It is high spirited, easily excitable, and untrained. 🙂
It would happily jump into your lap and wait for you to pet it.
Of course you want to pet it.
You have hands, don’t you?
And it will also lick your face.
It isn’t self-conscious in the least.
Of course you want me to lick your face, she says.
If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have one.

That’s how a puppy thinks.

~ ~ ~

My passion for you
Is a wild thing, too.
It crouches down quietly inside of me,
Waiting…
For just. the. right… moment. . . . .
to
Pounce!

And then,
It will devour with no regard for temperance or moderation.
There could be biting and scratching,
But undoubtedly,
You will be completely consumed.

That’s how a wild thing survives.

~ ~ ~

My passion for you
Is the current in a river.

image
It will sweep you off your feet.
Carry you.
Surround you, engulf you, wet you.

Flowing, flowing,
Always flowing
No man can stop it.
It will sweep you off your feet.

Carry you.
Surround you, engulf you, wet you.
You, are to relax.
To lean back and float.
To go where it will take you
though you’ve no idea where.

It is not for you to worry.
The river won’t get lost.
It has one purpose;
To flow unceasingly in a forward direction
and never. look. back.

That’s what a river does.

~ ~ ~

My passion is a horse unbridled.
Locked in a corral by a previous master,
It trots along the fence awaiting freedom.
Wind tangles mane,
Sweeping down from teasing mountains clearly visible to yearning eyes.
Head is tossed in frustration.
Impatient hooves stomp in agitation.
It is hindered from galloping freely.
It waits for the day it can run.

It trusts.
And it waits.
For the day it will run.
And the unbridled horse lives on.

~ ~ ~

Lastly,

My passion for you is a tulip.
Yes.
A strong yet fragile flower.
Gentle thing beneath the ground, its eyes are closed tightly,
She waits for sun to thaw the earth
And remembers previous springtimes.

She seemed to those (who observed her)
To be fickle when she disappeared from view.
But all tulips know the secret of rebirth.
They only slumber during winter.
Like love, they never die – they just mature.

She waits in darkness, hands reaching skyward,
Knowing spring is coming, she can feel something stirring.
She will grow beneath the sunlight of sincerity in your gaze,
the warmth of your smile will nourish,
Your velvety voice will coax,
The brush of your hand will awaken her
And then she will bloom in the best possible way,

image
Like love, they never die - they just mature.

Vibrant with color,
Each petal unfolding,
Slowly,
Freely,
Completely,
For you.

That is the secret that all tulips keep.

~ ~ ~

Passion is many things lovely.
Many things powerful.
Many things wonderful.
Many things strong.
But my passion is different
from all of the others.
My passion is only for you.

The puppy,
The wild thing,
The river,
The unbridled mare, and
The tulip
All have a common thread binding them.
Each of them
Exist solely
For you.

– leah

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