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A Conversation at Lunch:
A Poem
Pursuing the bare minimum returns the same.
Instead, ascend as the saints and Christ proclaim.
The exception is not the rule, but proves the aim—
In humble admonition, flee the misguided claim—
“What is the least needed to be saved?”
The sly question a statement enslaved,
A tailed flavor contained in tannic staves—
Faults in the heart, not seeing our graves.
How aught we serve our faithful groom?
Assume measurements in love’s flume?
Suppose reprieve from relational doom?
No! We empty ourselves, sleep, then resume.
“Don’t get lost in those traditions of man.”
Have mercy! There’s much work and few hands.
The Carpenter helped draw blueprinted plans—
Structures tested throughout all ages and lands.
We even brush our teeth in a particular way,
How much more aught we consider how to pray.
Our hospitals and doctors trusted to delay decay—
Eternally more, The Doctor’s hospital heals us each day.
