Paradox

My paradox,  the darkest light, a field of death, a vision ripe.
The arc  is pain, the joys of God, a pleasure void, a limbic
Rod. My brant  to shore, a pore aflame, to love the wraith,
And cherish pang. For shattered life, a picture flint,  a
Static wave, a liquid glint. And living dead, a sober kef,
The breath of Poe, a godly death. My lambent  sea, a fleet
Of light, a water dry, a grounded flight. And flaming cold,
A pleasure debt, the warmth of ice, a placid  fret. 

My paradox, the darkest light, a field of death, a vision ripe.
The love is grim, a lovely maze, the growth of weeds, a
Blissful shame. My lotic rock, a hateful bride, a barren
Fruit, a soundless cry. For broken steel, a fractured bar, a
Burning snow, a gleeful scar. And living dead, a sober kef,
The breath of Poe, a godly death.    

Paradox: a contradiction, where both sides of the argument appear to be true; but when put together appear illogical.
Arc: a continuous circle, even one generated by an electrical current.
Brant: a trope for flight.
Flint: a rock.
Lambent: to flicker softly, as of flame or fire.
Placid: calm.
Fret: persistent worry or vivid anxiety.