“What’s the point?” I once asked my grandmother.
Point is, be a good human, don’t bother,
Get in good books of God, the all-father,
Say your prayers, be kind to each other.
That’s not the point, there must be another
Haven’t seen anyone meet God, any further.
“What’s the point?”, so I then asked my father.
I don’t know, maybe, you ask your mother,
Wait, study well, that’ll make your life smoother,
Once you’re done, you can even buy cruiser,
That’s not the point, no, this can’t be either.
Mom’s unschooled, yet everyone’s beneath-her.
“What’s the point?” I asked a walking stranger,
cultured, polished, looked varsity major.
small round mark, place, to write parts of numbers
zero dimension with no remainder
That’s not the point, we ink it, no danger
mmmm! minute! yet got length-width’n container
“What’s the point?” joined us the wise bystander
You say it’s three-dimensional, got her!
also true is description he’d render
Point is, you missed a point, just try’n gather
“That’s the point”, said stranger to bystander
It’s imaginary’n we’re pretender.
