Ardour Lost

Ardour Lost

Kayla Bartsch

There is no darkness colder
Than the coals of ardour lost,
What once had burnéd brightly
Had raged on far too hot.

There was now no life left
To nurse a flame to light,
But blackness, brittle, bored, and stale:
sole product of the strife.

Despite those noble ages
Past pressed upon those rocks,
No sprites of ancient tongue or mind
Could rouse the slightest spark.

Yet in the hearth they linger
Under stains of past success,
Such scorching a reminder
Of brightness blessed, now spent.

Who then can make atonement
For such a hollow stone?
Is there salvation to be sought
In fire not mine own?

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Kayla Bartsch
Poet & Writer

Photography by Jakob Braun