For the Ends Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
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Passion can be a somewhat lustful animal. When it feeds continuously, it will . . . eventually tire of the type of sustenance for which it used to yearn. Its constant engorgement consumes the very longing for what once had spurred it on, for romantic passion can only subsist mainly on fresh flesh and it inevitably ends. If romantic passion is wise, it will reinvent itself, evolving into a deeper breed of love - something more trusting, comfortable, and true. Sadly, romantic passion is often mistaken for the very thing which it needs so badly to change into, thus ending in disillusionment and a craving something new. Happily, however, the creature passion can rekindle the enthusiasm for its old diet – though not ever as frequently as it had in the past. There is a different passion - a lascivious obsessive beast which, when deprived of what it longs for or denied control of what it thinks it owns, will stifle or stalk its prey, and kill any chance for real love to ever begin at all.
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