Passion of Hate

Where would we be,

if we loved with the passion

As much as hate?

What would we know

If we ignored the whims

Of religious righteousness

And glorified our own being

And cherished our lives

As much as we hate?

What is it that we hate In ourselves,

that we cannot love

our sexuality,

our divine truth,

our compassion?

Where is our sensibility?

What will the vestige

Of our existence

Stand for

If we cannot stand for ourselves?

We hate with too much ease

Or are we too stuck in our own morals

Of our own ill-defined humanity.

Or is this too, the course we want to be?