Particles of the Veil

Like pride to pain, or bliss to tears, my fallen flame, my
Shrouded fears. And heart to ghost, the fey of grace, a royal
Flare, a mystic face. And relic bones, suffuse the tress, a
Purple moon, a faint caress. But vivid glare, a spirit child,
A scarlet tomb, the forest wild. And soul to flame, a fated
Scar, the ache of death, a bleeding star. And angel born, adrift
The gates, a cultic sword, a cryptic fate. Hence the curtain,
Sewn in sorrow, a sacred pledge, on the morrow.

Like pride to pain, or bliss to tears, my fallen flame, my
Shrouded fears. And sky to fall, the flames of silk, a saintly
Wraith, a holy quilt. And whisper soft, my silent cave, a
Leaping heart, a photic wave. And truth to veil, like death to
Feast, the blood is light, the highest priest. And breath to
Grave, aloft the night, the ache of love, and sacred rites.