Sonnet 282

Love, the metaphorical fire that burns
Within the hearts and souls of human kind
Where those not yet consumed will still fair yearn
To kindle up the light that makes men blind.
They see but gleaming rays to keep them warm,
Soft endless glow to stave off darkest night;
Yet from such flames infernos oft are born
Consuming all and everything in sight.
Love’s ardor wanes most fast when scorching hot
And reason first succumbs to such a blaze;
More radiant the flame, more black the soot
That sullies hearts with every mind to craze.
Love’s searing reach is best by stone contained,
Where though bright flares subside, yet heat remains.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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