Must I Unsay, I Must Unsay

Must I unsay, the weal of soul, the whelm of heart, my spirit
Bold. For vox to flame, the spark of verse, a sullen lark, a
Knitted curse. But life to love, the ripest fruit, the coals of
Flight, the deepest truth. And sickle nib, to harvest gold, a
Dance aflare, the flame of soul. My rest and woe, the yen of
Whet, the glen of bane, the den of spec. And zest to zeal,
The zing of light, the zip of prose, the rose aflight. And scythe
To heart, a vessel torn, my blood to grave, a need to mourn.

I must unsay, the weal of soul, the whelm of heart, my spirit
Bold. For oak aflame, the woes of breath, the vibes of love,
The gloves of death. But soul aflare, the wit of grief, the flit of
Wings, a cryptic peace. And hymn to wave, the volts of
Flight, the bolts of flame, the bane of light. And scythe to
Heart, a vessel torn, my blood to grave, a need to mourn.