Wilted Dream

I gallop blind, a naked soul, entwined in weeds, and flaming
Cold. My wilted dream, my lively tear, the heart is sore,
And fraught with fear. For purple blood, the angels fathom,
And fervent cries, stir the phantom. Thus the spirit, an ivy
Green, naïve to love, and welted dreams. But hertz and
Vibes, suffuse the heart, the golden gates, of cryptic art.
And faint aglow, the spirit wails, and depth the bone, the
Truest tales.

Thus the fury, a bleeding log, a touch of light, beneath the
Fog. And light to prayer, aflame the dream, the daunt of love,
A ghostly theme. But truth to pain, the heart is sage, the
Ache of growth, a mystic cave. And life to soul, my vision
Sore, a wilted dream, my deep amore. Thus the passion, a
Cultic flame, fraught with tears, and christic pain.