The Mystery of Work
Rotating on its axis,
The earth labours
making the world go round
The planets also work,
As they revolve,
around the sun
The solar system is working,
With the burden of all things
Ants work day and night
To erect hardened anthills
Only for man to callously destroy
Striving to make ends meet
Plants, trees and other vegetation
They respond to stimuli:
Wind and touch;
Science and geography
And other acts of men,
All in the name of work
And everything keeps going round
A little labour does the door
As it swings on its hinges -
the effect of some work done
The paper sheet blown by the breeze
Travels from one place to another
Just to continue the process
And prove to you, o haughty sluggard
That inanimate things do work
To keep his sweat-soaked money;
The lawyer goes to the banker
The accountant had paid his arrears
He would also get to the clinic;
With the help of a driver
And his conductor
Both will visit the eatery
On their way out
And everybody keeps going round,
Working
We know God is working
Or, so we are told
His angels too, hands-on-the-plough
The devil is losing sleep;
Maybe he doesn’t get any
His demons are not folding their arms
And smiling with you and I
So you don’t think they are left out
Of this common train
All keep going round
Every day, like a vicious circle
Unveiling the mystery of work
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
