In flowers of gold, in seasons of old remain the secrets untold

The things that we fear, the things that we need and the things we keep in between

The memories we keep locked, the key we then hide, hauntings of the desires we fail to find

Passions untamed and discoveries unnamed all casing us out into the storm of bliss and shame

The dread that we shelter, the darkness held by (untruth) stone, betrayed our wavering search for the known

Tortured we are, Troubled we remain by the minds we may never regain

In shambles lay our past, in silence our dreams cast; Vacant and lost they can never last

For those who wander, for those who are blind, granted the liberty of an unstained mind.

-Sheyanne L.