Maybe

Maybe there’s no leaving and going, no returning, no entrance nor exit. People live on the stories they tell each other, living by a faith that may eventually metastasize as a growth in the mind, a cancer that attacks any original thought. Maybe all the beliefs that ever were, were whispered into our ears by well-meaning celestial prison guards until that time when we can cure ourselves of the thousand and one children’s stories taught to us by other children. Then maybe there will be a real entrance a real exit, a real going and leaving. No more returning to this all too small prison for big Ideas.