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It lies in all of us.

Sleeping, waiting
And though unwanted
it will stir
open its jaws, and howl.
It speaks to us, guides us
Passion rules us all.
And we obey.
What other choice do we have?
Passion is the source
of our finest moments.
The joy of love
the clarity of hatred
and the ecstasy of grief.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear.
If we could live without passion,
maybe we'd know some kind of peace.
But we would be hollow.
Empty rooms, shuttered and dank
Without passion, we'd be truly dead.