Passion soon passes.

In the twisting coils of coital connection
he finds himself climaxing, the very pinnacle of his idea of love,
tenderly touching her very core with his longing…

Passion soon passes.

His pulse stabilizes restoring that pervasive sense of self,
righting the ship, restoring that all-encompassing need to be right,
which ultimately banishes desire into flight,

Passion soon passes.

The unregulated roller coaster of grandiosity and shame restores relationship to its homeostasis, a series of sustained minor conflicts,

Her low calm tones mock his lofty flights of deep desire, which was once paramount,
now as he dismounts, he returns to the cooler climate of everyday married life, he walks away satisfied in himself…

Passion soon passes.

This ebb and flow, this tide of combatant and lovers, a duality deeply enmeshed, entwined, defined ultimately
by decades of conditioning, entitled by his mother’s embrace, her forgiving face, “these times” he sighs.

Passion soon dies.

chris