Deep Thoughts

This is not the morning,
To question what you do,
That deep, deep chasm like a twirly slide,
Beckoning on to you,

While the kindest attempt to pull you back,
Others shaking their heads,
Secretly wondering what it is like,
The thought of knowing filling them with dread,

For what would get done, if we all indulged,
In the truth we possess,
When only by holding it at arm's length,
Can one e'en be depressed?

Oh, never mind,
To think this way at all,
You would have to have it all figured out,
Or be so wrong you may just as well fall.