Denic Light

My denic  light, a phantom fear, a sophic joy, a spirit’s ear.
And canvas limn, an artist’s pain, the grim aflare, a heart
Aflame. My flit and grave, the pulse of prose, a subtle
Slave, a fallen rose. And cultic wings, a silent tear, a somber
Torch, a telic spear. Thus the death, the kef of love, the
Smaze  of bliss, the woes of blood. My denic light, a field
Of flux, the fruits of May, a torrent rush. And dahlia love,
A faint surprise, a flood of joy, a prayer to fly.

My denic light, a phantom fear, a sophic joy, a spirit’s ear.  
And web to heart, the wax of pang, a freedom death, the
Breath of flame. My flit and fog, a ferric maze, a ghostly
Ache, a prophet’s cave. And prudent love, a fallin’ soul, a
Palace tear, a rhythm gold. For denic light, a field of flux, the
Fruits of May, a torrent rush. 

Denic: an adjective for den.