Man Without a Purpose

He used to whistle while he worked, Feeling good about himself, His stride always purposeful and full of pride, As he made his way home, The crops now gathered in, He could bestow uninterrupted time on his family. And afterwards he would sleep the sleep of a man happy with his lot, No jobs left undone that could sour his dreams, And cause him to awake a different man, One no longer content, Tired in both mind and spirit. Now he lives and works in a city, The same one that swallowed up his land, Forcing him to change from a crop planter and gatherer, Into an information gather, A job that he can never quite finish, With no tap to turn off the ever-increasing flow of information, That eats into his awake and sleep time without distinction, Raising questions he never needed to ask before, Regarding his purpose in life. Is this the slippery slope we are all headed for? Or will we awake in time, Take that necessary step back, To add information assessment to our job description, And a beginning and an end to our gathering time. So, that we can once again whistle while we work.