(sonnet # CCXXXVIII)
The fire rekindled's far from dead but burns
Yet; smoulders now white-hot and red, wee flames
Oft dancing here and there; alive, reclaims
The fond desire; enraged to heights, it yearns
And gains more heat as longing e'er returns
To lick the logs unsated; silent aims
For heav'n, expiring to revive; the game's
O'er, yet it lingers on untamed, death spurns.
Time ever weakens, still the embers glow,
Light flitting, playing about them, bitter tease,
Reflecting on the charred remains as though
Hope gleams, dreams wrestling, twisting blaze, and seize
On ashes. Half-consumed, would Truth might throw
The water on all, burying lies, appease!
29Sep11