Youth’s Passion

Passion today,
Passion on the freeway,
Resurrected yesterday,
Still a slave today, in the house
Just a night, here and there,
A little shy from the presence,
From the presence of goodness,
From the presence of a father,
God good, God misunderstood,
God in the flood, no more destruction
To take place, to take root, to put me
In that kind of place,
Passion was lived out in my youth,
Endless nights of invisible elevator
Chases, around the town, Phil Collins
In Fort Collins, in the air tonight,
Separate from the group,
Matching colored suits,
Christ in pursuit,
Perverse images of adolescence,
Filled with efflorescence,
Every stage of life, every
Gross motor skill attained,
No longer grabbing what I
Could not see, he said it weekly
To live with passion, to live it
Fully, to live in such a way that
Would make the world say:
O, what kind of person is this?
O, what must I do to be saved?
For passion divides us, either
In pursuit, or living dead to
It, dead in the American dream,
Youth was passion, youth was love
Again, youth was an endless night
Time scar, with headphones loud,
Tears real proud, missed you when
You did leave, when the planes took
You, when alone at home was the way
It had to be—passion will forge me,
Will change me

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