last year's attempt at blank verse with a central metaphor

See how well it worked out. :p I publish this only to amuse my two readers. If only I had the gift of metaphysical poetry! If only metaphysical poetry didn't go out of fashion in the 17th century. Sad, sad.

"Burn-out"

The sparks drift up into the smoke-skinned air
And seem like stars before they flicker out
Just bits of wood and ash, a moment's blaze,
Their fuel is spent before they've left the flame.
Is that my fate, floating in a grey
Of lightless souls and waiting death,
To be used up in bright, impassioned faith?
If righteous heat consumes my restless flesh,
I am afraid no spirit will survive,
Fly up and greet the Lender of its light
With offerings of lasting fire, and that the blaze
Is all and end of all, the brief and failed
Attempt of wood and ash to blend with stars