‘Wistic Maze

I imagine such pain; and such release: to enter a psyche, and
Feel such expansion; and I cry the music; and fly the Passion.
My foreign thought: the hunt of ghost; and loyal heart—torn
Asunder. Feel the fulcrum; and thirst the light; for bias
Thought, a need repent; and tunnel sight, a demon sent. My
Future curve, a meeting fraught; and mesmerized, a falcon
Verb; thus the riddle, a tear surprise; and feeling weak, a
Mother’s cry; and such the joy, a manic kiln; and such the verse,
A soul to spell. I feel a voice, a Father’s flame; and dine the
Pulse, a smitten faith. My mystic tear, alert the dead: a Spirit
Lives, the ache was fed; and now the worth, a silent groan; and
Rare the flight, a broken home; for heart to speak, a jealous
Crow; and pumpkinseeds, a field to sew; and thus, the chase,
An empty cave; and thus, the light, a ‘wistic maze.