It makes no sense to me

I went to church on Sunday with a mole

From MI5, I tried to save his soul.

If God can’t make a saint of every man

Why the Dickens do I think I can?

What other mysteries can my body  know?

Thank God,I  only signed for Pay and Go

Underneath the silence there is peace

I pray the  silent music  brings relief

Poem

Silence in the centre of our soul

Silence in the  love that makes us whole

O Godly worm that of  my flesh might eat
Let my very self  become your meat 

One day we will die and that is sure

Let death be named the illness with no cure.

As Shakespeare said we we have no teeth, no sight

But the old can still be happy in the night

Although arthritis makes the body ache

I still have got my appetite for steak.

My joints are bust, my toes are cold and bent

Where is my mother now, for I am spent

Bring me frankincense and myrrh, bring me some tea.

I want a wise  man now,well are you he?

The grammar is the best thing in thr book

It makes no sense to me, come take a look.

I think I’ll go to Ireland when I’m old.

Take me to the fire for I am cold