Simple cynicism, where sin isn’t.
Purged of penance, a mere animal existence,
Coveting what’s mine from your self-interests,
Governed by forces I trust others have discovered.
Yes, with clouded lenses and wooden shovels,
We marvel, surface scraps dug, medieval man’s past,
Meaning left impoverished, pottery pieces
Placed beneath bright lights, the museum glass
Polished, a placard dates the discovery.
Dig, dig deeper, where sacred vessels are preserved!
And Incarnate Blood and Flesh were once observed!
And masses fed during the holy Masses said
With chants and songs and throngs in communion,
Beloved bound, God’s Love the same then as now!
Gary Edward Geraci
