Omic Flight

Such omic flight, the mauve of soul, an orchid tear, a love to
Mold. My lilac wing, a-sing the verse, a bardic wave, the praise
Of birth. And flute to wind, the jinn of dreams, aspark the
Hertz, alive the streams. And volt to heart, the myth of coy,
The lust of breath, the kef of joy. My welkin muse, the bruise
Of pride, the flaunt of death, my need to fly. And vault to light,
My sylph amore, my Zion queen, my dream and sore. And
Lute to tongue, a seraph flame, a star to earth, a mystic vein.

Such omic flight, the mauve of soul, an orchid tear, a love to
Mold. My dahlic flare, the glare of light, the pulse of ghost, the
Host of life. And rib to cage, the rays of love, a lively wine,
The chime of drums. And sea to shore, the key to stone, aloft
The clouds, a cryptic throne. And lute to tongue, a seraph
Flame, a star to earth, a mystic vein.