Passion burns deep inside my flesh,
Either holding on or holding me back.
I must let go and permanently release it;
Heat is a transformable power!
It may warm an icy heart,
Thawed by a simple act of grace
Or it may slay on enemy fierce in battle,
Revealing my true heart's nature.
The art of a poem, whispering intent,
With allegorical crafting, it burns;
It wounds; it mars; but for some,
It ignites faith and a lost second chance.
My days are few and if there is any hope
Of a remembrance worthy of retelling,
My passion must sear my soul's image,
Into a single heart who understood!
The End
Go on to next poem by Mark Edgemon: The Hell of Our Making
Return to: The Works of Mark Edgemon
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