A Tale of Grief

An opus wept—a phantom beast, a world of death, a psychic
Grief. And shattered light, a gravid  soul, the sweat of blood,
A morbid scroll. The night was torn, a tragic mist, a torpid
Heart, a wretched kiss. And savage thought, a razor rail, the
Reign of death, the kef of hell. And vatic tale, a sore lament,
The ache of flame, a bleeding flint.  For soul to psalm, a prayer
For peace, the burn of pang, the bane of grief. And skeptic
Faith, a sullen tear, the blight of stars, a static  spear. 

An opus wept—a phantom beast, a world of death, a psychic
Grief. And fractured hope, a sophic war, a welted wave, a
Broken core. The russet sky, a spoken dream, a violent hawk,
A silent scream. And private pain, a mortal hell, the pride of
Grief, a waking knell.  And skeptic faith, a sullen tear, the
Blight of stars, a static spear. 
 

Gravid: burdened.
Torpid: inactive.
Flint: a rock.
Static: unchanging; without movement.
Knell: a funeral bell.