"They make no sense at all, In them you either fly or fall. They make you do it all. Their need is biologic, but they are most illogic. They are not real but still can be achieved, If they are just believed. What are they?"
The ones who see it may go blind, contracting the fool's madness. You have to dig to find it, Crush big stones or mine it. Wash dirt clumps in a pan and wait for it to settle, A shiny, precious metal. What is it?