Teacher

If I could teach you how to live

Would you be like me?

Drowning in he memories of mistakes by all else forgotten?

Or would you live without error? Without fault?

If perfection, if the ideal, were true, or plausible, or simply possible,

I would walk you there if you would follow,

Drag you there if you would not;

If I could guide you somewhere you would be safe from my mistakes.

But I am not a shepherd, nor a guardian, nor a deity.

I am but a man, and every man but a teacher

Of his own faults,

Of his own mistakes.

And you are not a sheep, nor the guarded, nor believer.

You are but a boy, and every boy but a maker

Of his own faults,

Of his own mistakes.