To and fro

I was able to write
able to talk
able to ride
able to be
but i was unable to let go
so i walked up
I stood up
but i was shaken
I was strong
but I was mistaken
not by me
but by my thought
so I rested and sensed
I finally moved back the fence
took a breather and then bought
another packet of incense
for the lungs and sat there by the bench

Delirium

All that I am,
All that I do,
May be is an illusion,
May be its you.
I was never there,
Neither were you,
Neither were they,
Who thought this through.

I found a piece of hope,
in some souls who were true,
who danced with the sun,
and sung with the moon,
but with the morn,
died like the dew.

Where is all this leading,
is it so fluid and flowing?
to be so untrue,
or is it me who seems to wander,
from here and a few.

what is my purpose,
what is my clue,
what is my passion,
is it you?
or is it me who is so blind,
can never see if it was ever so clear,
or blunt or just fine