My Friend Aflame

A feyic dream, a lotus love, a vision born, a thorn to blood.
And phantom wings, to scrape the skies, to touch the Ghost,
To ponder why. My friend aflame, the fruit is ripe, the grain
Is fair, the field is light. And shepherd love, the pulse of
Faith, aspark the soul, a phantom ache. My friend aflame, a
Ghostly drum, the bass of God, a spirit strum. And fathom
Life, a tinge of death, a fire dance, a mystic breath. For soul
To heart, a daisy sore, the fount of fate, a cultic core.

A feyic dream, a lotus love, a vision born, a thorn to blood.
And arc to wave, a treble  tear, the joy of flame, an eye to
Hear. My spirit friend, the tunnel’s dark, afore the light, a
Blended spark. And foot to mount, a desert trek, the swirl
Of faith, a mystic step. For soul to heart, a daisy sore, the
Fount of fate, a cultic core.