…and hunger does not know release

There is passion, desire, obsession
and the dangerous hunger to feel alive
but there is another unknown beast
that survives on the things that my heart desires
it enters slowly, softly, like a song
into my fevered dreams and my hungry soul
and leaves my heart consumed by flames
it comes disguised as something beautiful
a stolen glance, a candle dancing in the dark
it whispers softly to me
‘there it is, the hidden key
the life you thought you’d never have
the one who sets you free’
and I believed and opened doors I swore to close
for I always followed where the wild wind blows
I searched for things I had never encountered before
I left reason somewhere far behind, and called it fate
when all along I was the one who chose the storm
for passion is a hungry beast and hunger does not know release
it turns a moment into years, a whisper into something fierce
a stranger into destiny, a spark into eternity
it is the poet at midnight, who tears the page and starts again
who writes until the morning breaks
to give a shape to a nameless pain
it is the dancer lost in slow motion, the sailor drawn to the sea
the restless heart that trades shelter, just to feel free
it is the soul that that hears the call of a distant drum
and knows that the time has finally come
it is the voice that says ‘create’
and also the fire that tells us not to wait
but passion has a darker face, a deeper hunger
it builds a shrine around desire and then sets itself on fire
it tells us that love means never leaving
how strange is the heart, that finds its pleasure with pain
we crave the touch that makes us whole
but passion is not always kind, nor does it always set us free
it may light the way, or lead us beautifully astray
it can inspire a work of art, or leave a wasteland in our heart
I once knew a heart that loved like thunder
that loved with all gates thrown wide open
and nothing left to keep inside
it thought that if it loved enough, that love would answer back
but love is not a binding spell, the strongest flame
cannot command another soul to understand
and so the beast, denied its prize
turned all its gold to ash and lies
it called the ending treachery
despite some things just cannot be
the heart must learn a harder art than just giving everything it has
it must learn how to hold its fire
without reducing everything to ashes
and learn that desire can live without possession
that love can be both wild and free and still survive uncertainty
so, I let the beast in me desire, I let it make music out of grief
I will not shame the things I crave, for without desire, what are we?
a locked-up room, a leafless tree, a body without heart
I know where to draw the line, where longing turns to desperation
and I will never worship every flame
for some fires warm and some fires consume
when I love, I hope to love with honesty
with open arms and an open heart, with all the wildness of the sea
and all the grace of letting be, for there is beauty in the beast
that will not cease to seek the extraordinary
it is the pulse beneath the art, the part of us that dares to feel
that the impossible, is something real
so I let the world call too much, too wild, too lost
I would rather burn with something true
than spend my life in shades of blue
I would rather risk a broken heart, than never give the world my art
I would rather love and lose the flame
but when the final embers fall, I hope the beast will understand
that fire is beautiful and bright, but cannot live forever
and if the beast should rise again
with wild desire beneath my skin, I will greet it like an old friend
whose restless journey has no end
I’ll let it teach me how to feel, how to create
how to dare and how to heal, but I will not become its slave
for I was born to feel the flames, not to disappear in the ashes
a beautiful kind of ruin
©Ann Bagnall