Hallelujah, the Flame is Born

Hallelujah, the flame is born, the tears are live, the soul is
Mourned. And cryptic wave, the blood of Christ, my ferric
Spear, my death aflight. Adrift the gut, Elijah lives, a message
Wild, a grave to dig. And near the cave, a violent storm, a
Subtle calm, a mystic form. Aloft the spark, Elisha cries,
Yahwistic love, the vultures die. And flare to wing, to waft
The skies, to grip the flame, a vision wise. But death’s afoot,
The pith of life, a string of hearts, aspark the night.

Hallelujah, the flame is born, the fears are live, the soul is
Mourned. And cultic flare, a cryptic star, the breath of script,
And tears afar. Infuse the core, the staff of laud, the prayers
Of grief, the peace of God. And sin the ghost, the host of
Death, the kef of pride, and lies abreast. And near the cave,
A violent storm, a subtle calm, a mystic form.