Gentle

So little to love—a gentle flower; and so much to hate—a
Songbird. We die so freely—alive the pain: only to fly so
Freely—a gentle death. My violent dove: the earth has
Perished—a gentle storm—the birds are gloomy; and we
 
Clutch and fight and wrestle love; and such to die—a life
Of breath; and such to live—a life of kef; and grog the soul,
A dragon flare; and damp the lights, a gentle stare. My
Careful dove: the sky has passed; and death to live—a fatal

Crash; and russet hearts, the reddest blue: a violet wealth:
The stealth of blue; and truth to pulse, we perish love; and
Paint the halls—with aqua doves; and rune to mind, the lance
Of volts: a violent stir: the birth of cults; and gentle death,
The myth of flame: a fire wet: the roots of grain; and spell to
Soul, a year of lust: the hold of fey: a gentle thrust.