Memories of long-forgotten mirth,
whispering in the dark.
The shadow-wrought thoughts are
always a wingbeat ahead.
They hide from annihilation
in an unused tunnel of the mind.
We struggle to find them,
blind but not beaten,
we search for the El Dorado of our soul.
It is a boon,
It is our bane.
Like the crimson sheet of flame
that warms the body,
but scorches the headstrong hand.
Finally the treasure is ours,
the glittering gold, the shimmering jewels,
a ray of happiness in a storm of chaos.
- Jacob Riley