What's the point of going to class?

What’s the purpose of going to class,  

Following a script, like a theatrical cast?  

In films from a decade past,  

Characters lament their work amassed.

Does wealth bring joy, or is it but a myth?  

Money may shift quality, but not always bliss.  

The homeless man finds contentment within,  

The poor boy smiles despite where he’s been.

Empty bellies, always full, zero calories, no toll,  

How do they find peace within their soul?  

Why study the Bible’s ancient pages?  

Perhaps uncertainty fuels the rage of ages.

I ponder joy from days of yore,  

When fields and snow were the lore.  

Peace seems skewed in our modern view,  

We sit and capture—is that what we’re meant to do?

Gathering data on the peaceful of old and new,  

A trend emerges—simplicity is the clue.  

Those at peace lead lives uncomplicated,  

In simplicity, true tranquility is cultivated.

Comparison breeds our discontent,  

The angel and devil—constant torment.  

Amidst ferment and erosion, be the rock,  

Stand firm, absorb, observe, and take stock.

I’m not suggesting you erode away,  

But stay awhile, reconnect, and sway.  

What’s the point of attending each class,  

If it merely burns your youth away so fast?