By Pulse and Sky

By pulse and sky, the zest of zeal, the arc of love, the spark
To feel. My orphic love, the soul has crept, the grout of
Lust, and sorely wept. And cult to heart, the tears aflame,
The soul is torn, and deeply slain. But joy to flare, the prow
Of bliss, where lovers rise, a precious kiss. And ache to
Soul, the waft of wind, the glare of mist, a mystic glen. And
Christ to cross, the grave of death, the fate of life, the soul
Of breath.    

By pulse and sky, the zest of zeal, the arc of love, the spark
To feel. My cultic love, the puce of flame, the stream of
Light, a cryptic frame. And wand to spell, the rose of peace,
The grace of Rome, the pride of Greece. But flux and fog,
The damp of heart, the cleft of soul, the rift of arc. Thus
The passion, adrift the wave, aloft the clouds, a flaming cave.