A Fire Heart

A friction storm, a fire heart, a phantom slain, a holy spark.
And dance the ghost, the pulse of light, a christic wave, a
Zenic flight. My gusset  flare, a feyic wind, an oaken root, a
Mystic den. And furnace flame, the force of prayer, a yogic
Rush, an omic glare. But depth the heart, a cryptic war, a
Biblic myth, a psalmic sore. My orpine  rose, the throes of
Script, a ripple verse, enflames the crypt. And heart to kiln,
The drill of flame, the ache to soar, despite the pain.

A friction storm, a fire heart, a phantom slain, a holy spark.
And feel the wraith, the face of wind, the flame of light, to
Walk the fen. And dance the hearth, the thirst of God, the
Wave of life, the soul’s applaud. For heart to flare, the
Prayer of wings, the flight of love, the sight of dreams. And
Veil to glint, the tint of Christ, the pulse aflame, a fluid light.

Gusset: a bracket which enhances the durability of a structure. Used here as a trope for God.