Before everything else he was a teacher,
bearing a word that came
from somewhere unexpected;
where the divine light is piercing and bright
and causes good people to blink
and to avert their eyes.
The word sparked disturbingly,
wildly illuminating the polite mores
of an increasingly rude world,
whose own most treasured words
had grown ugly and self-centred.
In the hands of the Teacher the word
glowed true and confident, and his friends,
in time, did learn to look upon it.
But now that the Teacher has left them
their only thought is to find for it
a worthy and acceptable repository.
They manage to procure a suitable plinth,
where they install securely the wondrous word
and draw curtains of safety around it.
Then, plating him with silver,
they proceed to burnish the teacher’s memory,
pledging their undying devotion,
and honouring him as their Lord;
making sure, as they do so,
that the safety curtains remain reliably in place.
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