In the pursuit, of that, perfect poise
Between two, realms of, intellect
From the, tombs of ‘Gates’’,how ‘Tolstoys’
Toil hard, to death, to resurrect!

Obliged to, the rites, of profession
And the, sublime sin, of ingenuity
Man yearns, each day, for redemption
From the, white-collar, indignity!

Why life, be lost to, clerical chores
Each moment, a squandered, masterpiece!
At the end, of it, his heart implores
“Shall I, ever accomplish, my ‘Ulysses’”!

Dissolved in, the mob, of salaried class
Strays the, bleeding soul, of a ‘Bob Dylan’
Faith in bread, betrays his, bare canvas
How A Job, Destroys A, Thinking Man!

© 2019 Vikas Chandra