The Spark

Like a wispy beacon in the night, a spark embers a solemn glow
A delicate balance beholding power to become a flame
Smoldering ever so gently beneath the ashen surface
Impatiently eager to combust through its materialistic chains

In the heat of a moment, it ignites into a roaring blaze
Unleashing an ethereal inferno of abundant, sweltering lust
Seizing its full potential, a torrid fury of uncontrolled chaos
Granting warmth and comfort to those who brave its touch

As the moon ascends the night, it braces for the darkness
Casting grand shadows, thriving when all hope seems lost
Weathering through relentless storms and melodic winds
Holding fast to its allies, shielding them from bitter frost

At the dawn of a new day, it quells with the rising sun
Wistfully fading in the morning dew and spring breeze
Transforming into memory, transcending cosmic light
Its blaze short and swift, but momentously wild and free

The legacy of its warmth, an everlasting gift of gratitude
Even though it wasn’t meant to blaze for all but a night
Forever cherished by its survivors, who will always remember
How it boldly burned hot, and ever so bright