My Fire Joy

My fire joy, my flaming gale, the waves are sad, adrift the sail.
The heart is gold, a scarlet moon, a passion ache, a mystic
Croon. And fervent prayers, suffuse the soul, the pleats of
Hope, a cryptic scroll. And flame to tears, the spirit burns, aloft
The waves, where wisdom turns. But truth to light, a private
Hell, a shackled wrist, a wilted spell. Thus the future, a touch
Of death, a sighing soul, a sickly breath. And wings to flight,
The storming rain, a ghostly thorn, an angel’s flame.

My fire joy, my flaming gale, the waves are sad, adrift the sail.
The soul is bronze, and yearns for gold, a silver star, a precious
Stone. And moral tears, increase the strife, the ache of prose, a
Fervent light. And heart to pain, a vivid flare, the hope of life,
A private tare. Hence the spirit, the burn of love, a swollen
Pride, a mystic drum.