The Journey.

We start out dead as we are conditioned from birth.
Our minds locked in a box we wander through life.
Never questioning only repeating what’s said.
Our thoughts have been given to us and approved.
Our hopes in our group we give our support.

That itch in the back of our brain is ignored.
“Something’s not right, something's not real”
We march on for fear of thing that might change.
Till the day comes we are slapped in the face.
No longer can we keep our heads in sand.

The story we are told does not make any sense.
We start the journey, the journey to think.
Further and further down the hole we go.
Trap after trap impossible to miss.
We must go on, it is the truth that we seek.

Information everywhere but what is real?
Only logic and wisdom can light up our goal.
Those who can’t use them are bound to repress.
We find the world is very different indeed.
When we find life we can not go back.

There is no savior, no hero in white.
The control of the mind finally we’re free.
The road is lonely and the price is steep.
The masses won’t listen, as they stumble along.
So we continue the journey all on our own.

Oz