The nature of reality
by cricketjeff on March 6, 2010. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
The real world,
the world inside my head,
confuses me.
It is a world of words
tumbling, bumbling, stumbling, fumbling words.
They tickle and tease and want to play
all day.
Ideas and dreams, thoughts and schemes,
who I am, who I’m not
all talking
all wanting to be heard.
There are songs and smiles,
lives and laughter.
Other people and me
and me and me
all different
all the same.
The world of make believe,
out there where rules apply
and lives must come and go,
is easy to understand.
But the real world,
my world,
our world,
is where the questions grow,
where answers lie,
where dreams;
there are always dreams
beautifully soft,
horribly hard,
wonderfully weird,
where dreams are born on the sea of words,
those wonderful words
that touch me as I need to be touched
tease me
play with me
where dreams are what matters. Here I can be me.
The world of make believe
has disappointments and
sadnesses, deaths and
disasters. Loves there die
slowly ebbing away or
quickly in a blaze of glory
In the real world
everything and everyone
lives on
loves on
In my world I can touch you
feel you
all of you
In the real world.
Author notes
It’s an rather strange place, that’s not the half of it!
English