The Eternal Spark Poem by Padma Devkota

Do old hearts die like embers gold to grey
losing their glow and warmth to slow decay?
Or is the eternal spark a deathless thing
that can relish even in frigid times
the passion and the joys of thrilling spring?

Can it, if this be so, thus generate
the light of love and sensibility
amidst the darkness of a senseless world
lost in the densest fog of selfish quests
and retain the gold in a cold, cold world?

I still have hopes of lighting up a flame,
the guiding flame of life that marches on
with faith and confidence in Eternal Spring
where that which falls and dries and rots away
is cast like slough by soul lit by warming rays.