The idea just sits there, implanted in space, shining in the road ahead of you. The great urge to touch it overwhelms whatever common sense you have; only fear now dictates your decision. You spend a considerable amount of time staring it, hoping that maybe--just maybe--the sight alone might be able to touch its essence. Not realizing it, you come closer to it, closer, closer still, and even closer. Your eyes are being stabbed by the shining brightness, inching to touch the very thing you fear- NO! You snap out of it and leap back. You need a foot, no, perhaps a meter, just something test it from a distance; a stick of sorts, and the very object that appears to be lacking around the unknown you are surround by. You look at the road behind- no stick in the overshadowing darkness you came from. You look at the road ahead- you can't make out what the blinding light blocks ahead. You get a feeling there is some other direction you have failed to consider. A road has two ways: forward and backward.
Are you destined to obey the rules of the road? The idea seems as dangerous as touching that other idea . . .