Passion is a fuel, consumed by fate. It can spread like fire or smolder in place. It’s destructive and constructive, no stranger to pain. Find it, protect it, and let it grow. Only then will you know.

Passion strikes, and harmony responds. Like a silent arrow in the midsts of war. Resolved and pure. They cool, yet refuse to be fooled. And if we’re careful, we let them rest, only to awaken upon the master’s request.

Don’t confuse the sensation with malice or fear. Passion is a sense we all hold very dear. Quick, automatic, driven, the original action. A force of nature, with no faction.