passion
they put the chisel on a block of wood
cut it shape it put intricate designs
they make a dead piece of timber come alive
they dig the earth to move it deeper like our interiors
sow some seeds from the yesteryear’s crops
sprinkle water or wait for rains to let it blossom into life
they shout at the top of their voices in haste
for they know it has to be now or never
when the river wades through shallow pitches
they have to make her head rest at their pillow
for they know if she ran faster they will fail
they move the moon in skies above their heads
from west to east every night from crescent to full
for they know if they did not their lunula will turn paler
they have to fill dreams with lovemaking of their souls
for this universe stands still unless passion is ignited.
