Disconfirmed when facts and the general conditions of life run counter.
I have a sense of truth, avowing the impact on the diamond,
Unscathed, and responding to its gleam: you have a sense of propriety.
My sense of wonder is renewed by seeing that the true is good
And the good is implicitly true - a perception that involves my whole being:
But you see truth through one squint eye, to convince yourself
It’s foolish to commit your life to something that seems so unreal.
My truth is a compass, pointing my way: yours is a map.
My truth is powerful through testimony and sacrifice, yours through accepting
Worldly criteria of success that nourish your feelings of superiority.
My most regrettable lie is not taking a moral stand:
Yours being illogically wrong, unskilful with the postulates of your analysis.
I want to speak out, when an expert, unknowingly, affirms a falsehood:
You’d speak, not to tussle with errors, but to defend the status quo -
By which you would advise concealment of adultery to save a family
And I the receptivity to truth that would never have compromised veracity.
You’d prefer people to do what they say, and say what they think
In loyalty to you: I should prefer them, guided by a light
Not solely theirs (not justifying always their own version of the truth)
To become what they are, to join the incomparable quest to live
Authentically, self in accord with self, pursuing wholeness
In a creative unfolding, stronger than the demons, the exhibitionist and the leeches.
But it’s easier for you to be open than for me to be authentic, for our judgment
Fulfils the duty it imposes, but life imposes, not fulfils.