Free Slowly, meekly, silently walking; Drifting form one idea to the next, An idea only, not reality. Grasping on, clinging to the imaginary. Looking up towards the fallacies for answers. A trip, stumbling, falling. At last, Stubbed toes on the tangible, Instead of supernatural. You hit your head hard. A flash... The cobwebs clear And what was once dark and hazy, Is now as real as reason. The instant realization that some things, Many things, Have no purpose or reason for existence. Questions need no manufactured answers. For the first time you think and see What is there, instead of say, What is said to be. And you walk away alive And free to disbelieve. 3/99