The Euphoria Of Fame Over Glory.

; thoughts, like windows, can be cleaned to perfection. At this time, almost perfectly, can one see through them into oblivion. This window was very clean. You may look through it.

Every euphoria, regardless of taste, is experienced in variation.
Some see Fame, the excitement derrived from hearsay of grandeur, as the pinacle of social importance.
Many are Famous.
Only Famous. No less, yet certainly not more.
And who then I ask, is Glorified? Who lives in the thrones of your mind as King & Queen, as Rightiousness.
The Famous could truly be nothing greater than the peasant boy.
He's known about your village as a thief. He is known; Famous.
He is not of Glory.
Glory is recognized by many traits; worship, idolization, commitment, and prayer.
     Wrath, even.
When committed to an indivudual of such status,
And life itself is devoted to "Hail the King,"
Or to lashing like whips against Gods enemy,
In that fashion has he/she, known or unknown, become your f*****g savior.
You have stepped into delinquency.
Fame means but none in mind, and your heart is purged of all things oposing your Idol.
Sacrifice becomes worth.
You become less.
To be known is inconsequential. You would prefer no one else knew.
To share would be painful. Mine. Yours.
Not theirs.
Fame often takes presidence over Glory in the minds of the poor, wicked, and stupid.
The mind of a fool is void. Inconsequential.
F**k the Famous. Glory can try.
F**k the Glorious. Fame gets by in the days of Wenches and Alleyways.
Fame and Glory.
Fame and Glory.