Dear Yahweh

The heart is live, and sore aflame, a mystic flare, a sacred
Pain. And death to light, immortal tears, fraught with panic,
And mortal fears. And blood to soul, my well Beloved, the
Depth of truth, my cryptic love. But sullen grey, the portrait
Wails, a hundred wounds, and cultic scales. Thus the passion,
A taste of grief, a fallen soul, a scar that weeps. And silent
Nights, the depth of prayer, a bleeding wave, a rising flare. Hence
The sorrow, belies the fruit, of holy joy, and reigning truth.

Plus the vision, a bloody red, the darkest love, and demon fed.
And light to soul, the Spirit moves, the ache of life, and mystic
Blues. Thus the future, a cultic face, the pulse of tears, and
Solemn faith. And heart to pain, the gale of death, the haunt of
Life, a precious breath. And blood to soul, my well Beloved, the
Depth of truth, my cryptic love.