My wistful Love

My wistful love: aria of the soul. Listen. The birds are silent.
Love has withered—a teary star. And promise arose a dreary
Heart. Thus inflated—the joys of pain. And depth the soul—
A pensive flame. But fulgent prayer, the touch of God. Such
The ache—of mystic streams. Love has risen—a silent flare.
And tears have settled upon the silt. Thus the self, infused
With prose. And saintly eyes imbue the soul. My feral love,
My gem to stone, ours immortal, as love has shown.

My wistful love: aria of the soul. Listen. The birds are singing.
Love has flourished—a brilliant star. And promise arose a
Fervent heart. Thus alive—the scent of love. And depth the
Soul—a fulgent flame. Such a flare, and vision sung; and such
A song—a torrid sun. Love has risen—a fabled dream. Thus
We soar—the art of wings.