I was trying out the mode Haiku for the first time, it is refreshingly liberating. Although this is more of a word based one and not strictly 'hora' based.
That fruit on life’s labour-tree
While tasting of which one is oblivious
To the toil growing took
***
The juice of fleshy fruit
Enchanting the senses thoroughly, that grates not
The coarse textured seed within
***
Listening to the river rushing
The swift musical harmony erodes any sense
Of getting ones feet wet
Passion to me has always been a sort of loss. An immersion of the self so deep that the internal sense of time or continuity is lost. This disconnection with the motion of ones life, the disorientation I feel when I come out of the phase is how I recognize it. Sad in a way because it takes the death of something to recognize that it lived.