Job In The Jobs. By Ray Subrata Poem by Subrata Ray

Sinewy celled, brawny –built,
The Jobs once tilled the land,
On boat and yoke graced their hand.

The panoramic flashes of night and day,
Were received with equal mind,
In down and fall, they receive all,
As the boon of creators ebb and tide.

The Job in the Bible,
The Job in the Gospel,
Was an Yogi on laws of deeds,
How happily he received God’s verdict,
And nourished the soul, as he was fed.

The Father of the Jobs again and again,
Comes to show as how to regain,
Our ever-coveted blissful seat,
Farming land, for our strand, in their retreat.

Some Jobs in us, never aspire,
More than their honest thrift,
Never they gallows, desire’s hollows,
And spoils their divine Mead.