It’s Something about the Design

I must learn, my heart; and learn my soul; and whisper light,

My Spirit friend: entice a vision. She cries the silence; and

Longs the voice; and grips the trees: a garden brown. I pause

The pain: a lighter’s flame; and pregnant words: a subtle

Tear. Such telic souls, a drifting wind; and sorrow beige, a

Tortured pearl. His light a chant, a chain of nouns; and omic

Love, a precious rose; and gifted heart, a whittled gem. Her

Phantom mind, the probe of ghosts; and telic oak, the wings

Of prayer. [Selah] We die love, a jasmine leaf; and cry God,

A turning soul. [Selah] It burns, love: I fall to tell; and many

Eyes—a bias cry. [Selah] Speak the Word: ignite the grain;

And watch it burn; and watch it blaze; for cryptic thoughts, a

Cultic stem; and tenet eyes, a glass of gin; and deep the soul,  

A hint of sin.