Spoken Sky

Read the cobblestones: they speak of glory, and such thirst
To rub elbows; and we fly—the pits of danger; and we
Mold—a phantom’s dream; and so purple—a woman’s cloth:
A tear of love: a ghostly scream; and Jesus spoke—the
 
Father’s word—and died the life—of scripted Love; and thus
The death—is thus the life: the bat of faith: the badge of
Blood; and such a flame—the Holy Ghost: a mystic fleece: a
Cryptic tongue; and pause a frame, a cultic air: a chest of

Ghosts: a fated bed; and action bold, a trip afar: the Tomb of
Christ: the voice of Paul; and touch the light, the bluest waves:
The teal of love: a song of birds; and deep within—a wisdom
Tent: the course of hearts: the grave of pain; and near the
Camp, an angel roams: a slew of deaths: the hands of God; and
Glory born, the first to speak: a prophet’s head: a telic sheep.