Passion

I was alone. The room was empty and dark, save the tiny glow of my desk lamp. It was cavernous in the hull of the inverted vessel. Sound echoed around me. Small squeeks and accute pings of things cooling and sagging and taking rest. But I was all alone.

Why? I did not know. But the fact was clear. I could see the far end clearly, lit slightly by the diffused light from the moon. As it drifted in, through the hundreds of square, dusty window panes, it revealed theribs of the grounded vessel, with just enough light to give their allusion, to show them as a ghost in a dark attic.

I sat at one end, firmly planted upon my chair, bent over a large empty desk. The desk was barely lit by the lamp that mocked my form. It sat directly in front of me across the desk’s vast landscape. The edges of thedesk being almost undesernable and fading to nothingness at the corners, giving it an appearance of ovalness. I sat there staring at it. I'd been here for several hours. Time to time getting up to wander around the desk, kicking up dirt, disturbing the natural silence. Sometimes just gazing atthe emptiness that surrounded me, but never stopping. Never letting it go. Continuasly turning it, and turning it, until I am left with what I have now. Nothing. No closer. This that is before me is all that i can see. But, then I stop looking. Maybe I fall asleep. Maybe I'm just tired. Idon't know, but for whatever reason I forget it is there. It is gone.Where did it go? Did I hide it somewhere or did it leave on its own? I can't even remember now what it looked like. Was it ever here?

Then the grown of a steel timber above points my attention back again tothe vastness of this empty shell, and it is reappears.

I want this place to shine. I want it to brim with joy and prosperity. The comings and goings, to numerous to count. People climbing aboard out bound planes, others arriving on waves of cars. Still, others waiting at lunch counters that don't have enough room for one more cup of coffee amid the crowds of plates, half empty glasses, and half full ash trays.

Screams and whistles, people and planes calling to one another, saying "hurry" or "now's the time". Children playing between the lockers andelderly women, revealing their stocking feet, because they just couldn't go one step further.

I want the light to pour in. I want the flood gates to be opened. Everyinch, shining bright and new. The view of outside, clearly visable through the large open doors, and the sun high in the sky, warming and lighting all.

I want the noise to be outrageous. I want the smells to be consuming. Iwant the sights to be like none before. I want the air to even be revealedby the brightness let in by the open windows. I want this place to be full, in every sense. Joy upon joy. Excitement at every corner. Passion and pain and all that life gives.

How do I make all of this out of where I sit now? How do I convert ahollow form into a bustling environment where light permeates, where purpose is pronounce?