The noble lie,
Whispers of meaningless meaning,
Revelling in vapour,
Placing mirrors where windows should be.

The blind lead the blind,
And off they trip and tumble,
Into the depths of a vacuous pit,
Fleeting and silent.

Where your heart yearns for meaning,
Maybe beyond it lies the way?
Where your mind yearns for reason,
Maybe beyond it lies the truth?
Where your soul yearns for freedom,
Maybe beyond it lies the life?

As the great thinker once wrote:
'A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line'.