Story: When the Homework Forgot It Was Homework
Verse 1
I used to wake up with a mission,
check the sky and scan the ground,
treat each thought like it was urgent,
try to pin the whole thing down.
Every feeling had a meaning,
every silence had a task,
I was trying to solve the sunrise
with a notebook and a mask.
Pre-Chorus
But somewhere in the middle
of all that heavy grace,
the whole thing tipped and opened
and laughter took its place.
Chorus
When the work turned into play,
oh, the day got wide and strange,
same old mind and same old weather,
but nothing wore the same old weight.
Now the thoughts can dance right through me,
now the doubts don’t have to stay,
and the whole bright field of living
turned from work into play.
Verse 2
A story says, “You should be further.”
Another says, “You’ve lost the thread.”
Another tries to build a future
from one soft moment in the head.
But now they sound like kids pretending,
making kingdoms out of chairs,
and I can smile and keep on walking
while the breeze runs through my hair.
Pre-Chorus
No gold star for getting
to where I thought I’d be,
just this odd sweet freedom
of letting things be free.
Chorus
When the work turned into play,
oh, the day got loose and kind,
same old world and same old body,
but so much less to hold in mind.
Now the fear can lose its costume,
now the ache can have its say,
and the whole wild art of being
turned from work into play.
Bridge
I thought truth would be more serious,
more solemn, more refined.
I thought I’d have to earn the sunlight,
scrub the weather from my mind.
But the joke was in the trying,
the punchline in the chase:
nothing needed more improving,
life was already taking place.
And the laugh was not cruel laughter,
not a joke at someone’s cost,
just the sheer delight of finding
nothing real had ever been lost.
Final Chorus
So let the work turn into play,
let the heart get light again,
let the ordinary morning
be more than means to some far end.
There is wonder in the dishes,
there is music in the fray,
and the whole miraculous business
keeps turning work to play.
Outro
No finish line,
no badge,
no final thing to say.
Just this life
still opening
as the work turns into play.
