Two worlds
My world just collided with your world.
I just realized there are two.
A world of truth, a world of games–
Two different points of view.
Each day you must enter the “real world”,
Play a game ruled by somebody else;
I live here enclosed in my own world of truth
With rules that I set for myself.
Your “real world” is built on evasions;
Unpropped, it stands in the air,
Held up by frantic pretending,
And the fear that is everywhere.
The “real world” is really a phoney
Where an honest man is a fool–
A world made of lies and cheating
And no regard for truth.
The rules are strict in my world;
The standards are very high;
I’d rather hear your cruelest truth
Than to hear your kindest lie.
Sometimes I step through the looking glass–
When it seems the thing to do–
For a while I play their games with them
While my mind keeps seeking truth.
In my world I laugh at their silly games;
In my world I cry for them too;
In my world I try to be honest
Whenever I’m talking to you.
I know my world is a dream to you–
An impractical ideal.
You glimpse it when you talk to me;
When I’m gone it becomes unreal.
But for me it’s not a daydream.
I fight for truth each day;
On principles I live my life.
I fight. I win. I pay.
The “real world” exists, but it’s all pretense;
The world of truth–an ideal–
Must be created–by telling the truth.
It exists if you make it real.
I made my decision long ago
Of the life I want for me.
The world of truth is what I need
To set my spirit free.
But I see insecurity in you;
You want the real and the true,
But the need to function in both worlds
Creates indecision in you.
And it’s never completely settled,
Every day will challenge you:
A world of truth, a world of games–
Now the choice is up to you.
1978
My world just collided with your world.
I just realized there are two.
A world of truth, a world of games–
Two different points of view.
Each day you must enter the “real world”,
Play a game ruled by somebody else;
I live here enclosed in my own world of truth
With rules that I set for myself.
Your “real world” is built on evasions;
Unpropped, it stands in the air,
Held up by frantic pretending,
And the fear that is everywhere.
The “real world” is really a phoney
Where an honest man is a fool–
A world made of lies and cheating
And no regard for truth.
The rules are strict in my world;
The standards are very high;
I’d rather hear your cruelest truth
Than to hear your kindest lie.
Sometimes I step through the looking glass–
When it seems the thing to do–
For a while I play their games with them
While my mind keeps seeking truth.
In my world I laugh at their silly games;
In my world I cry for them too;
In my world I try to be honest
Whenever I’m talking to you.
I know my world is a dream to you–
An impractical ideal.
You glimpse it when you talk to me;
When I’m gone it becomes unreal.
But for me it’s not a daydream.
I fight for truth each day;
On principles I live my life.
I fight. I win. I pay.
The “real world” exists, but it’s all pretemse;
The world of truth–an ideal–
Must be created–by telling the truth.
It exists if you make it real.
I made my decision long ago
Of the life I want for me.
The world of truth is what I need
To set my spirit free.
But I see insecurity in you;
You want the real and the true,
But the need to function in both worlds
Creates indecision in you.
And it’s never completely settled,
Every day will challenge you:
A world of truth, a world of games–
Now the choice is up to you.
Ruth Desjardins
1978