To what burdens men carry for wages

and the learning of earnings to bear,

for the tasks of toil, sweat and dirt to

furrowed brow, lament of life to share,

as this too is shared by widows or women

without a man to help her and the pain…

past winter’s ebb and spring’s defenses

despite tears felt in the pouring rain,

this is the lifelong struggle of humanity-

to bear the strokes of work and chore,

the encumbrances known to wear us down-

uncaring to results, the effects do age us more,

the load day-in-and-day-out to benefit the

one to buy the tired soiled hands worn away,

from this charge of bounty, born of necessity,

the price given bargained life in form of pay,

what boxes lifted… what cases moved, chests

transported or containers undertaken often,

knowing full well the passage will lead us to…

directly to one sole destination… our coffin,

so it is from the approach of our conduct-

the trade of our labor to provide a day’s wages,

it is the doer in the doing, the exertion to the

action of the daily grind, all throughout the ages…

but one question has begged for man’s attention-

why have we turned to slacker, by calling, as we have plod?

To end up being stunned, so unexpected, when the

bundles that need carrying, it turns out, belong to God.