My Faceless Love

Brooch the mystery. Sing the mystic. For love, a furtive language.
Its touch, a cryptic thread. It’s ache, the blood of dreams. And my
Love, the force of pain. Thus I die to taste divinity. Such a
Sightless faith; and such a flaming coal. Unto death, my faceless
Soul, unto death. Thus alive, my torch and storm; and thus obscure,
My faceless love. Adrift, my howling prayer: aloft, my winded
Faith. And death, an open tunnel: light, a vibrant web. Hence the
Shadow, a faceless flame.    Â
Brooch the mystery. Sing the mystic. For love, a furtive language.
It’s texture, crimson soul. It’s width, a fluid dream. And my heart,
Aglow with thorns. Thus I perish to taste divinity. Such a vivid
Faith; and such a sightless stream. Unto life, my faceless soul, unto
Life. Thus in death, we soar the Spirit; and thus in pain, we love
Explicit. Hence the darkness, a riddled flame.

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