no meaning at all but worse

No meaning at all but worse
By james a. galgano

Maybe love endowed within shroud where savior sings.
From cross eternal beneath romans gamble lives and hearts
As if they were merely coin one could use to get through heaven's gate.
Perhaps there were some lost gospels written about this novel thought.
Maybe some lesson taught to children jumping in their desks soon lunchtime.
From within whose arms some lonely teacher sees a child crying into hands
As if this were a novel written by some by some foolish man now deceased.
Maybe these unread words upon yellowing pages now dog eared and creased.
From where endless lessons are soon derived from across unfamiliar lands
As if this buried treasure of tomes describe what thoughts were never planned.
Perhaps this sophistry is mere conjecture like the gospel's weekly sermons ring
Maybe these idle thoughts keep us from our daily chores beneath angels sing
As if this vernacular of wandering verse had a purpose other than to perplex.
From the person weekly sitting next to you while you on your smart phone idly text