FAME

What do I do of this fame, as I don't consider myself worthy,
This over flowing wine has got me grief struck
It's tides wash down my receptive capabilities
And I can never be that tree who let's itself dessicate to it origin,
And to my loved ones
Your eyelids enclosing my image and yet I can't penetrae in,
Your throat screaching my name and yet I can't talk to them,
It seems, that you fill me and yet this hollowness possess me.
I'm entitled to showing but not being,
Barging with masks all-around.
For thy, don't lay your hands upon me,
Becasue I choose solitude by preference.

PERCEPTION

Walls around me ripples apart, as I see through,
A transient light, gasping for its last breath.
And asking, "what distinguishes me from the darkness"?
Is it my origin?
Or have I given birth to it.
In either case why do we erase each other?
I have always considered it my other half !
As it always fills my absence.
Or is it my after death form, which I must attain after death.
Can no life and death walk together?
And as the darkness approached more closer,
light whispered to what,"what separates our duality"?
And I answered mere ''perception''.