Fire Dies

The fire dies,
The spark has gone,
The embers lose their glow;

The soul gives in,
The mind gives up,
The heart begins to slow.

But Death is not
The culprit, no,
It’s hope that’s burned away

And with its loss
The self endures
The same kind of decay.

The light will fade,
The warmth will cease;
One difference, though, it’s true,

That with the glint
Of future love
The flame might burn anew.

Perhaps the spark
Is always there,
Still ready to ignite

The soul with fire
Of hope once more,
To burn away the night.

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