Quilt to Soul

Such mystic this love; but the world paints pain; and I fall the
Gravel, and grope the sun; and ferrets dance, a sorrow sore;
And sisters cry, a vision gold; and brothers fly, a torrent soul;
And ponder death, a daily wind: the birth of faith, an adder’s
Den; and rising heart, the fairest love: a grove of geese: a Spirit
Drug; and knife to bark, a solemn oath: the wings of light: a
Silent ghost; and pails of prayer, the pain of pride: a woman’s
Soul: an eagle’s eye; and deep the hurt, a jilted mind: a parrot
Thought: the gravest chide; and plant a tree, my yogic heart:
An omic breath: the kef of art; and please forgive, a natural sin:
A need to drift—the tides of gin; and brandy burns, the greyest
Soul: the sands are quick: the nights are cold; and wretched pain,
A field of weeds: a need to flame—the earth of seeds; and quilt 
To soul, a subtle art: the waves of life: the mind of Sartre.