Task or Passion
When does it become the rule,
when our lives belabor such passion
that we alone only feel the result.
How could we ever know such cool
winds would weather a decision
to love rather than cast insult.
While the rains fell in morning sun,
lights in my mind suggested a peace
when comfort became necessary
I did choose to walk slow among
the vast majority, the inclined release
of simple truths, those that are wary
would we know by the color of their mood,
may we no longer feel a need, this we brood.