Along the way...

Our passions, deeply felt (for that's what passions are)
shove us into corners (for that's what passions do)
of our own making.

But passions seldom think (that's not what passions do)
for there's no room for doubt (that's not what passions are)
on even one thing.

Passion speaks and patrons say “hurrah.”
Passion gives no quarter to the hurt, the wondering, the confused.
Ideas, the right ones -- mine, of course! –
are deep within, inarticulate until, laden with emotion
they come forth and wisdom suffers, as do friends who wish
to learn. The passion shuts them out.

Hyperbole is a thing, often wielded with skill to amuse, enlighten,
persuade, reveal.
When left to run wild, wild on wild, it inflates the wielder
with itself and lays thoughtless death blows on would-be interlocutors.
It should reveal the path, not trample those upon it.

“There is no peace on Earth,” a song soon to be heard with love.
The line hints the contrast coming, the sweet answer to the awful word. Those who speak of doom do well to dare, to believe; to let passion bow to persons, to love people more than their ideas, and know – yea create -- peace.

We can do it. I've seen it and, though poor in practice, I long to do it. Will you join me? The wrong can fail, the right prevail, but not without peace and goodwill that must be born and bourn in the hearts and loves and words of all of us so painfully divided.

Let there be peace, and let it begin with me.