Every Seed-Dream Dies... Poem by ArmourQuill Hunter

In cryptic melancholy tones I hear my heart calling for hire.
Even martyrs, of the dark ages, sang in the intense fire.
I can see the breaking of my seed-dream from green earth.
This dead-love was all wrong; it had to die for a new birth.

I’m not sure; has anyone ever dived into a love-seed on fire…?
Has there ever been a “divine and enchanting love” of such desire?
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes-, every seed must fall inevitably down.
Please, isn’t there one who will tell me-, “who turned off the lights? ”
Will I ever 'sing and dance again, ' on humanities lost sea in the night? !