Cultic Seal

I, too, have an ideal, and fairest dreams; but such a stampede.
I reckon a firefly weeps; and rebirth, a phantom flare. I’m
Nearly warm, my love—a mental glare. Something so faulty;
And something so grey: a well of colors; for gifted minds,
Probe the soul; and granite minds, probe a thought. But such
Rhapsody, fills the heart; and such courage—a precious swan;
For such ideals, a purple youth; and such goodbyes, a broken
Vase. Indeed a pedant, a motion charm; and mental flame, a
Brief hello. Inform a phantom, a partial truth; and play
Pretend, a serpent suit; for opaque waves—a ghostly face;
And grayish lies, a sore disgrace. Infuse a forest, my mystic
Queen; and paint the soul—morning green; for treasured art,
A portrait tear; and vivid tales, a long goodbye; thus, the flame,
A cryptic teal; and future light, a cultic seal.