Chaplet

Feel the cultic, my treble love: inhale the mystic, my cryptic
Drum. For chaplet flame, a touch of grace, atop the mount,
A mystic face. And flare to soul, my magic fair, adrift the
Clouds, aloft the air. For wreath to blood, a symbol sewn,
The laud of faith, a telic throne. And truss aflame, the gift of
Wings, a gelid cry, the pith of dreams. And petal death, the
Birth of life, the arc of love, the pulse of Christ. For feast to
Storm, a biblic force, the pride of God, a vatic source.

Afflatus born, the Scripture wise, a floral stream, and cultic
Eyes. For garland thorns, the beads of prayer, the flame of
Soul, a physic flare. And stoic screams, the growth of bane,
A wimble scar, and plangent pain. For shattered brick, the
Neb of light, a feral brook, and cryptic plight. For feast to
Storm, a biblic force, the pride of God, a vatic source.