The Will to Fly

Swept asunder, the crypt of pride, the script of breath, the will
To fly. And curse to bliss, the verse of Eve, a soul to mourn, a
Hive to cleave. And horns of blood, the thorns of faith, to
Cling to life, to bleed the wraith. And heart to cult, the volt
Of light, the pride of God, the voice of Christ. Plus the fallen,
The blight of Paul, to rise adrift, to grieve and brawl. And
Thetic flare, the pulse of waves, the flight of love, the plight
Of slaves.

Swept asunder, the crypt of pride, the script of death, the will
To fly. And tear to earth, the force of bane, the course of
Blood, the pulse of flame. And soul to fount, the mount of
Scrolls, the gilt of grace, the face of gold. And heart to chest,
The plagues of yore, the faith of voice, to hoist the sore. And
Ferric staff, the graph aflare, the craft of love, the breath of air.