To talk about passion is simple,
To speak of love is difficult.
Passion wins mastery and devours all.
To appease the appetite, it destroys the one it has taken.
One cannot possess passion,
But passion will possess them.
Not so with love.
Love does not seek satisfaction of base desire,
Neither is one possessed by it.
Rather, one tenderly cultivates heart soil
That love may grow freely.
Passion is outside of oneself.
It may take control and reign unbridled,
Or it may be resisted and fought.
Love is a part of oneself.
It is the fruit of much diligence,
It is the fruit of much prayer.
Passion is native to the fallen man.
But love is foreign.
Beware, you who give way to passion!
It will not spare you but mutilate you.
It does not relinquish its prey
Once its prey has yielded.
Beware, you who desire to love!
It will not control, but it will become part of you.
Once planted, it takes deep root,
And grows or dies with you.
To be me is to love him.
I can have being despite passion,
But apart from love for him, I cease to exist.
Love,
Hannah Jo <3
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