Sometimes passion does not announce itself

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Sometimes passion does not announce itself,
it doesn't knock at the door, nor apologises,
It arrives dressed in urgency and desire,
with the fierce rhythm of a sincere heartbeat,
ignites the nights in furtive caresses,
breaking the rules, stripping lives bare. It burns without respite, without guilt, without fear,
like lightning in the storm, an eternal instant,
its trace is an echo that reverberates in the chest,
a wild whisper, a secret without mimicry. Passion that gives no warning, volcano that erupts,
unleashes tempests, ignites the zone,
harvesting sighs, an untamed poem,
a journey without a map, to an infinite horizon. reminding the heart that lives without measure,
that sometimes passion, alone, has come.