Heaven’s Spark

Boundless my love, a mystic grain; thus the harvest, a cryptic 
Flame. And every sickle, a solemn prayer, fraught with angst,
And saint despair. But depth the heart, a pensive faith, thus
The Spirit, a mystic face. And wistful tears, a touch of life, a

Wounded soul, a Spirit—bright. Thus the totem, a fallen shrine,
A blighted glare, a flooded rhine. And painted song, the omen’s
Flare, an ache of love, a flaming snare. But depth the soul, a
Symbol cry, a burning scarf, a sacred lie. Thus envision, a

Wounded soul, a gelid flame, a solemn scroll. And teary eyes,
A hint of troy, for paradox, a touch of joy. But ardent ache, a
Deathly sore, imbued with life, at heaven’s door. Thus the
Anguish, a touch of God, despite the soul, deeply flawed. And

Dreamy eyed, a soaring glance, fraught with magic, a mystic stance.
Thus indebted, a fallen heart, filled with pain, and heaven’s spark.