That gentle love might rise from savage lust—
From reckless acts here ever rife with blame;
Illicit passion, rarely blessed by trust,
When kindled thus, burns bright but ends in shame.
Rank guilt still lingers when that beast is fed,
As souls in silent contemplation lie,
Charting the place that sated lust be led
When slate grey-dawn breaks through the blackened sky.
Such fervent flames may gutter into ash,
Still there, at times, a lonely coal may glow
And stir from depths, a long-concealed cache
Of hidden warmth that fondness may bestow;
Then from cold ash, a flame may yet appear—
As dark desire now yields to truth sincere.
Such fervent flames may gutter into ash,
Still there, at times, a lonely coal may glow
And stir from depths, a long-concealed cache
Of hidden warmth that fondness may bestow;
Then from cold ash, a flame may yet appear—
As dark desire now yields to truth sincere.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Loubert S Suddaby poems 