Love lives not in bright fire but in drab coals,
Ignited by a spark, it roars to life
Consuming all by touch in lustrous glow
Feeding on itself in righteous strife;
Dressed orange and gold sweet lovers sway in dance
And lusty tongues lick upward at the sky,
No thoughts that on tomorrow’s ash they prance
As if a white hot love could never die.
But passions fuel wanes fast where love burns hot,
The dower’s boon engulfed in ravenous blaze,
More radiant the flame, more black the soot;
Of conflagrations such all eyes amaze;
And when the pyre’s gone, embers remain —
Yet to the truest hearts, such heat sustains.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.