How strange the way we wear ideas.
We pick them up like pebbles on a beach, then feel we have to protect them.
We absorb them into our being until we can no longer separate them from us.
Our transfigured selves become instantly offended if they are challenged.
We are willing to fight to the death to defend them.
We have become prisoners. Was that free choice?
How did we forget they were just our toys to be played with?
Where did we leave our joy?