A
ruby dart sails, it sears my palm
I
feel the surge of glory and bliss.
Larks
waltz with doves to kiss my brow
the
mystic gate parts; all holy seals melt
so
halos may rise and paths shine true.
Hark
a horn blasts! Hail riders in white!
O
come dear prize! Call magic to blaze
for
arid, grey souls whose hopes are dross.
Your style of writing is so poetic. Like you could write anything and it would sound amazing. I love it.
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