Last Passion

Random Musing

• There is one fine moment before the end of a certain type when all is stripped finally and all that remains is such

  sweet pain and passion, a beast suffering but no longer afraid a thing completely terrifying as it makes it’s last

  stand against a world that is no more conducive to life and love than a vat of acid to metal, it’s caustic fume

  devouring, boiling, rejecting violently nature for nature. In his last stand all fear gone all that remains is the nobility

  of existence. A lifetime poured out in a moment and all who see never forget. Such pure expression of what was

  supposed to be, such pure and sweet agony, life in a nutshell. Despite the beauty of stepping off and finally telling

  the world and everyone in it what they already know as they drag with them their shackle and weight it’s still

  breathtakingly empty. At least it’s finally able to say it out loud with a last growl as it flashes it’s teeth and claws,

  it’s finally able to call it out and call it what it is. We marvel in that drama of all things in a moment and somehow in

  some sad way feel more alive as we witness the end of it’s suffering. Pure beauty of existence against all tides all

  it really wanted was to dance, to dance and dance and dance and dance, but it could only dance alone.

Author's Note

Don't sweat my stuff too much. I'm just sounding off trying to stimulate some flow a fledgling attempt at writing.