The Lady or the Tiger

She holds out both hands and opens first one, "Love" and then the other "Passion."

I splutter outraged at such a shitty choice wanting to slap her.  The inner three-year-old stamps her foot and cries WON'T reaching greedily for both.  But there will be none of that.

That is the place of first resistance.  I stop.  Pull back and pout for a couple days.  That choice constantly looming, working somewhere deep in my subconscious.  Why would the peeps put such an ugly choice before me?  How can one possibly choose between them?

I try to envision a relationship based wholly in love but lacking passion.  How is that different from deep friendships or family?  Instead I imagine a relationship based wholly in passion but lacking love.  Satisfying in the moment, but lacking the essence that pastes two people together.

I come to a place where I am ready to choose one, to reach out and take it.  But at the last minute I stop and reconsider drawing my hand back slowly.  I cannot choose.  I rest my aching head in my hand.  The urge to cry is strong.  A loud sigh escapes my lips.  Impossible.

Her arm slides around me as she hunkers down beside me.  I look up and into her eyes.  Penetrating the mysteries I find there.  The tight place of my thoughts expands and I catch breath.  Expands again.

The question was not posed to torment me, but to make me think on the subject.  I understand that I have been operating in the place of passion and not that of love for the last two years.  It is time to bring the balance back.  Then maybe that thing I want will sashay into my life.