The Art of Procrastination

Work, such a troublesome thing
Each day it returns with reinforcements
No matter how much we do, it is never done
No matter how much is done, there is always more

And so escape is sought after
That which brings freedom from work's bondage
Or so it seems, such trivia and yet it, in itself
Seems to carry a burden, another face of work?

The art of procrastination? An oxymoron!
Real satisfaction through this cannot be obtained
Whence does it take its beginning or conclusion?
Whence can you look back and in pride stand?

Hope, therefore, each day the fruit of your labours
May taste sweet and justify the rest we get each night

By Pete Scopes