Had to stop and look at this, lots of thoughts swirling around, perhaps I shall crack my knuckles and attempt some feedback. Methodically.
"and often endless dreams turn inward like buttons a constant series of graphs behind our eyes"
Dreams are quite a common way to start a good poem, for what reason(s) unknown, but you state they "turn inward like buttons" which could possibly refer to self reflection using dreams, since dreams are usually memories, it could also mean using memories to reflect on the past. The graph statement intrigues me, I know for a fact that if you look at anyone's eye and see a mosiac in their retina, it's most likely a woman, and "constant series of graphs" does remind me of a mosiac, almost like a kaleidescope (hope that's spelt right)
"these are the tiny voices we lose in the moments like petals of rain in an ongoing movement of whispers"
"Tiny voices", perhaps a reference to our conscience? The second line again intrigues me, the moments like petals of rain, using petals instead of raindrops, nice slide away from the cliché, this appears quite abstract to me though I'm certain it's very clear to you.
"still we keep on beating still we only turn into ourselves and the music coming from our throats is just another way to tell the living from the dead"
Now I'm thinking I understand the second stanza better, it was describing looking outward and here the idea states that in spite of looking both outside and inside ourselves and our surroundings, we look instead inside and prefer to stay that way, and the fact that we can sing is not a very big fact at all..
"in my secret heart i am swallowed i am almost always weakened at the knees by a mere motion sustained as long as a breath a gentle push of reality to the right"
Reality can be good and bad, more often than not we describe ourselves as "coming back down to earth" instead of detailing the journey from reality to our dreamworlds. This stanza somehow doesn't seem to fit with what I've read so far, but it's good nonetheless, quite stirring..
"it is denser in the golden cancer of my tropical mind where a thick static of flowers rises like a hurricane and gentle birds snap the wood that would be nests"
Golden cancer of my tropical mind, that is truly a magnificent statement..along with the rest of the wording, thick static of flowers flowing with the idea of density and thickness here, and the last line I'm sure is characteristic, gentle birds doing what possibly could not be done.
"i'm only as lonely as i can be when i am and only then because it calls me like a sun or an ocean i saw as a child then locked away for the moments that hurt"
"we are still stronger as we age though our bodies weaken, our minds engage and every moment that we can stay silent opens up vast caverns of eloquent thought"
You describe ageing here..as a process that only seems to strengthen the mind, and I agree, age of the body does not always equal age of the mind, and the ocean described from a child's point of view is wondrous, beholding such an enormous and powerful entity from a young age definitely left an impact on me. "Locked away for the moments that hurt", plausibly for trying to find happiness in days of darkness. Silence is golden and helps you think, no wonder it's so well put inside the "vast caverns of eloquent thought".
here is where i lose myself
This just stuck out and I'm saying this is my favourite line.
it is inside these seconds that i become forever an island surrounded by myself i can almost hear my own voice repeating "i am a great storm of light"
I don't understand this last stanza fully, but I can almost hear the echoes of loneliness on the island, and the storm of light is especially visual.
Great write, I hope to read more like this from you. Cheers Azuire P.S. I don't see how this is a poem about passion though, it seemed more like a self reflective one. Oh well. Your choice.