The Death of Passion

The Death of Passion is a yawn
And is in no ways furious
To shake the hand politely and
To give a gentle kiss goodbye
Is to consign a lifetime's worth
Of solitude and loneliness
But nothing in our sorry world
Could be more sad or natural.

But please do not be so misled
As to assume that all Passion
Inherently is good - It's not.
For Passion causes lechery
Just think of Phoebus, left alone,
After he lusted Daphne's roots
Or that both Gluttony and Greed
Are sins of the worst character
For they are Passions both for food
And gross desires for money.

When Passion's dead, is it complete?
Or does it live, in those handshakes,
In flowers from the blood, the past,
And can a Passion not transcend
All life as God's own son once did?
And wasn't that in many ways
As sacrilegious in its day
As fevered Passion and its whims
Are to some people now? And God -
If Passion cannot be again
Then let it die for everyone.

June finished July 11