The Torch is Blazing

The torch is shaman; the winds—a whisper; and love, a cryptic
Spark. Thus the heart, a mystic gem. And such purpose, my
Lilac star; and such dalliance, a cryptic flare. Thus the soul, a
Saintly glare. [pause] My ghostly wound, my knotted storm.
Such is magic, a blissful scar. Thus the soul, a violet blue; and
Thus the heart, a magnet flame. But depth the core, a broken
Vase; and depth the touch, a mystic face. [pause] It’s myrtle
Born, a sacred shrine; a touch of gold, and love divine. Thus
The song, a Delphic flame—laced with hope and mystic rain.
But depth the soul, a burning grief, for love of heart, a tacit
Beast. [pause] Languish not, my teary soul; despite the path, a
Flaming cold. But love the ache, a mystic gem, despite the light,
A growing sin. [pause] My novel love, my cryptic wound,
Aflame the core—is a mystic tomb.