The Visit

Last night, I was visited by an idea, A strange, impossible idea Everyone is lost Everyone blindfolded And like Plato's cavedwellers, Instinctively fear the Truth. So, one will cry; "I know all! Down with thinking!" And like sheep unknowing of the slaughterhouse, Flock to the chopping block. The Visitor whispered "Revoltion now!" But I was afraid. I was afraid of the light of Truth, Yet the siren song of reason haunts me still. I cannot yell, can only whimper, Cannot fight, yet anger simmers. "God is not real" whimpers I, "Devils are but a myth!" But what takes their place instead? And this, my friends, is why I cringe and run, The light revealed not shadows, not deities past, The ray of Truth pierced ignorant shadow, The wardens, the Furies, all that we fear, Is nothing more than a mirror.