Temps
Their was an old librarian
Who wrote the Tao Teh Ching
A Prince who left his palace
To achieve enlightened being
An obscure patent clerk
Who coined E=MC2
A seamstress, who refused
To take a back seat, justice dared
Of all the work we have to do
There is an endless surplus
Vocation cannot limit soul
It serves a higher purpose
A job cannot define our worth
Consider one sublime
The poor son of a carpenter
By whom we reckon time
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