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.
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