You can lead passion to rationality
but you can’t make it drink.
It may bow its head or rear up, meow or whinny,
but it will not drink.
The size of its obstinance does not matter.
Passion, any size, does not drink rationality.
We brush our teeth and tie our shoes, it does not.
We read our mail and change our beds, it does not.
We pay our bills and make coffee, it does not.
Passion drives us mad banging against the bars
and searching for the key to escape.
Passion rode us on its back long ago, or only yesterday.
It remembers, and will not let us forget.