Flare Adrift

Such symmetry, my precious muse: such aesthetic, my photic

Fuse. But flare adrift, the fame of death, a flicker born, a

Spirit cleft. And such ablaze, my illusion: a golden spear, my

Infusion. And fairest light, a cryptic curse, a thorn alive, a

Cultic verse. My darkest night, the trek of flame, my brightest

Light, the spirit slain. And fear to God, the flog of breath, a

Brilliant fog, a subtle death. And wings aflight, a tunnel dark,

A vulture sly, an evil heart.

And soul to light, I flit the scar, the reach of faith, and tears of

Tar. But heart to war, the dead asleep, a tongue of vile, a soul

To creep. And so obtuse, a bias pain, the truth of death, a

Subtle pang. And fairest night, a flaming log, a thirst for peace,

The grief of fog. But wings adrift, a tepid heart, an omen

File, a violent arc.