Let there be passion…

Thence in what ways we wandered, and how strove

To build with fire-tried vows the piteous home

Which memory haunts and whither sleep may roam,–

They only know for whom the roof of Love

Is the still-seated secret of the grove,

Nor spire may rise nor bell be heard therefrom.

Sonnet XX, Secret Parting, Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)

Such verse seems lost on many people today. They think such words are sappy, corny, foolishly idealistic… that in this modern age such romanticism is long dead and buried. I think not. Sure, the world is a cold, cruel place filled with suffering of all kinds… we see it everyday on the news, in the streets and back alleys, just about everywhere we look. But inside… in the hearts and spirits of people… that is a far different place. Poetry, like the other Arts, is food for the spirit. It touches that place inside that few other things do. There are people in this world that don’t like having that place revealed, even to themselves, because it makes them feel somewhat vulnerable… and that’s a scary feeling sometimes. But without food, the spirit goes hungry… it creates a yearning inside for something more… something to fill the void inside… something that cannot be touched or bought or put on a shelf. Without passion and romanticism… without deep feeling… the world seems monochromatic, lifeless, and cold. People have forgotten how to dream, how to use their imaginations, how to express their deepest feelings (if they even know that such feelings should be expressed, that is).

Life and love can be much more meaningful…

Ah, Life! and must I have from thee at last

No smile to greet me and no babe but this? Lo!

Love, the child once ours; and Song, whose hair

Blew like a flame and blossomed like a wreath;

And Art, whose eyes were worlds by god found fair;

These o’er the book of Nature mixed their breath

With neck-twined arms, as oft we watched them there:

And did these die that thou mightst bear me Death?

Sonnet XLIX, Newborn Death, Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)