a slow hand finds the shorter way
while the sweat-drenched push boulders uphill
the observant lean back, eyes narrow
watching the gears turn, catching shortcuts
not all effort deserves a standing ovation
some acts demand more thought than muscle
the lazy man sees the cracks in the wall
finds the door nobody else tried opening
he skips the toil, trims the fat
clears the rubble without lifting stones
the clever ones know when to stop, let go
why waste blood if the brain can do it?
innovation is born in the quietest corners
where hands are still, minds roll forward
call him lazy, but he smirks, amused
he's earned his place by doing less, smartly
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: February 2nd, 2026 04:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments2
In a world still privative man expected to earn his keep by the sweat of his brow but those that are a bit smarter are called lazy. They use their head to do the work. This poem speaks of them. Nicely done Gray
Thanks Soren I appreciate your feedback and support
Always a pleasure Gray
Now that'ts a good shout, NafisaSB/
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