Difficult

Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies, I scream in celebration, Yet moments later, my outburst through, I am naught but imagination.

related riddles

Reaching stiffly for the sky, I bare my fingers when its cold. In warmth I wear an emerald glove and in between I dress in gold.

A certain wizard resided in a city made from this gemstone.

Don't do this in the shallow end.