What is passion anymore?
the stone cold hearth of fires once burned..
I, half burned, part-scarred...
Lying among the charred arborescence,
former flame of the inner spark,
A calling-driven soul listening for a profession..
Retracing my deep-rooted steps, back into the grave of a life once buried,
Take your measured steps, never flustered, never hurried,
and soon you'll be there caressing the dust off its face, overcome with lust..
in awe of the latent bestial power, locked away,
tamed to 'Sit' and 'Stay'...
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