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.