Through sensibilty I find desire
to biologically expire.
Mine is not a wealthy greed;
not for fame or to succeed.
It takes me accute deliberation
to find I wish for liberation.
Yet to pass one's self through that door
would be to cheat the final score.
But what if you may never pass
until you see the gold within the brass?
But then your jewel becomes a lie,
an apparition before fate's eye.
You become the leaf that may never fall,
the seed that could not break the soil.
Never become so sure that you depend;
that's all I try to say my friend.