In the school of life…

So many lies I have heard
That misreport my teacher’s word.
So far as I can understand
He only issues one command:
“Love, as though they’re family,
Every person that you see.”

In the school of life…
…the classrooms are chaotic spaces
Bustling vibrant market places.
People yell salacious news;
Politicians shout their views;
Parties, banquets, holidays,
Celebrities, the latest craze;
So much to see, so much to do,
And always something wild and new.

In the school of life…
It’s ever so easy to play the fool
And quite neglect that you’re in school.
And yet
Free as we are
To wander as we please,
There’re moments
In our life
When everything will freeze

And we get the chance to make a choice,
To listen to the teacher’s voice
Giving wisdom, long prepared
Gently shared.
So beautiful, yet hard to hear
Unless we move,
choose to draw near.

For this is a teacher who will not shout.
And there’s so much noise to be drowned out.

Colourful, wild distractions,
Easy, quick, cheap attractions.
Why is he easy to ignore?
To just assume he’ll be a bore;
To think we’ve heard it all before;
To tell ourselves that we don’t care;
Pretend that we don’t know he’s there?
Surely there’s more satisfaction
In midst of the most manic action?

Despite the chaos and the farce
It’s clear the teacher loves his class
His words are good, his message kind.
Not to say he doesn’t mind
Each time a student turns to leave.
How keenly does the teacher grieve!
How deeply does he mourn the lost!
For only he can count the cost.

My brain can’t clearly comprehend
This patient love that knows no end.

Some say they fear there’ll be a test.
I’m not sure love can be assessed.
And yet,
It matters –
This one choice…

…do we listen to his voice?

Only you, for you, decide.
No-one else is qualified.

I have no gift to teach like he;
Can’t capture what he says to me.
I know through him I find a peace
Love and Joy – that still increase.
Despite these, there’s no worldly cure
To quell temptations’ lasting lure.
For though I learn my whole life long,
Still, there’s days I get all wrong.

The teacher’s voice is ever quiet
Compared against commercial riot.

I can’t tell you what to do.
Not my place to decide for you.
Stay a while? Or drift away?
I’ve only these small things to say:

This life’s the only one you’ve got.
It matters.
It matters a lot.
Don’t let learning pass you by.
Or get disrupted by the lie
That Joy is something you can buy.

So many lies I have heard
That misreport my teacher’s word.
So far as I can understand
He only issues one command:
“Love, as though they’re family,
Every person that you see.”

I guess that what I’m trying to say
In my slightly tortured way:

Very many people
agree with me.
They might be right
to dismiss
this trite analogy.
But it’s ever easy
this busy market place
To lose the quiet teacher’s voice
to turn away from grace –
Always seeking pleasure
in the daily grind.
Losing hope is easy
it’s very hard to find.

The teacher offers wisdom
It seems a shame to waste it.

How can you know if bread is good
If you never even taste it?

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