The Mystic Voice

So receptive, my beating heart, the hertz of love, the mystic
Ark. And truth to soul, a subtle force, a wave of light, a
Cultic source. Thus emphatic, the silent voice, the pulse of
God, the prophet’s hoist. And royal grey, the prudent path,
A touch of life, and cryptic math. But silent flame, sears
The soul, the ache of Christ, the Spirit bold. My sore
Intrigue, a sudden clutch, a hidden wave, a mystic touch. And
Light to heart, a rhythmic torch, the art of love, the temple porch.

And ghostly tears, flood the pulse, the pain of God, the angel’s
Host. But brilliant joy, rapts the spirit, the face of bliss, the kiss
Of lyric. And deep within, a mystic cave, the voice of light, a
Gravid maze. And truth to soul, a bleeding star, a gilded wound,
A precious scar. Thus the pain, the tent of gold, the sound of
Light, a voice to hold.