Opus Wind

Aflame the tear, my dying love, a cello soft, a phantom flood.
And near adrift, my gravid soul, a floating prayer, a flaming
Scroll. My nautic love, a siren fair, a flooded ark, a dark
Despair. But vatic heart, a forest cave, a privy art, a phantom
Wave. For hidden flame, a cryptic cult, a silent voice, a
Mantra volt. And seldom heard, an ocean cloud, a circuit
Faint, a thought afoul. But secret pearl, a world of peace, an
Opus wind, a tinge of grief.

Aflame the tear, my dying love, a cello soft, a phantom flood.
And penchant love, a winsome flare, a henna soul, the flute
Of prayer. My nautic dream, a field to reap, an ache to whelm,
A heart to weep. And knotted love, a phantom fleet, a cultic
Verse, a cryptic pleat. But secret pearl, a world of peace, an
Opus wind, a tinge of grief.