Mystic Ash

To matron love, a feral den, a rustic death, a rancid fen.
And Satan’s fib, a yenic fear, a legend lust, a friction tear.
My fiber ache, the core to wry, adrift the hells, a thirst to
Fly. And dragon flame, a passion sore, a forest deep, a
Demon’s door. But soul to yarn, the stitch of love, the
Mores of faith, the bond of blood. And fallen heart, the
Guile of fey, the trek of flame, a phantom grey. For fated
Life, a treasured path, a sacred pulse, a mystic ash.   

To matron love, a feral den, a rustic death, a rancid fen.
And wit to pain, an ethic law, to seek the good, a vision
Raw. My cordial friend, a potent verse, a cryptic volt, a
Bless-ed curse. And fervid dream, a spirit flush, the arc of
Love, a poet’s rush. For fated life, a treasured path, a
Sacred pulse, a mystic ash.

Rancid: rotten; strong smelling.
Fen: a low marshy area of land.
Yenic, an adjective for yen: desirous.
Wry: twist.