To Rest.

It’s not the done thing ,you know,to Rest,

Why ,there is always oh so much to do,

Beds to makes,heads to shake,minds to inflate,

No,no time to rest,no time to desist to slumber,

For in the life moment,nothing should own industry,

To be active,to rush,to flourish,to pursue,why ,such noble pursuits,

No,that kind act,that visit to the sick,the squeeze of the infirms hand can wait,

Wait,I say,wait,………until ,it’s too late,until the diary is closed,until our mortal coil breaks,

Then,and only then,does the rest beckon,the industry stops,all lines become dead,

Rest awaits us all,but ,now,in this life,in this moment,can be,are we ,at peace with ourselves,our fellowman?

Oh,we talk to ourselves,convince ourselves that we are cool,that we have all the emotional intelligence,

But,but ,but………What have we given today?What good have we done?

When true rest comes,we make peace with our fellowman,our kinsfolk,

For by their peace,their security,we can rest,we can :Rest ourselves.


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