Our Work Can’t Save Us

Don Iannone, Metaphysical Poetry, Spiritual Poetry

I think of work
That which pays us
Promises to sustain us
And yet, milks our life energy
Leaving us empty and dry

I think of careers
And how we entrust ourselves to them
To being something in particular
Somebody who matters
Because of the work we do

I’ve given up on work
As anything special
As anything that will save us
Or prevent the inevitable
Whose work it is to take us away

Look up close
Use a microscope if you must
To see what work is really about
For those you work for, and for yourself
When I look I see little that really matters

It’s a disease
Incurable for most
This thing we call work
It saps away the real us
Leaving us empty and forever wanting

I think of work
How I’ve spent my life
There’s no stopping the sadness
That descends and lingers
Until it takes us, and we can then rest

What we do in life should really matter
It should be about more than money
Or healthcare benefits when we’re old
These things aren’t enough
They can’t save us, or prevent the inevitable

I think of work, and wonder why
There isn’t something deeper in my life
That helps me see
Work only leads to more work
And never the freedom we all seek

4 thoughts on “Our Work Can’t Save Us

  1. Very good, Dobie.
    Hope the work and the freedom are what they are.
    Love, Maynard
    P.S. Those photos are mighty fine alright

  2. Thanks Joanne. This one was written during a hissy fit. Now, I must go to work. LO. Take care and hope you’re well.

  3. Wonderful thoughts and so eloquently put, Don. It is amazing how there is always time for work, but people rarely have time to even smile and say hello to those they pass on the street.

    These lovely photos sitting on your sidebar are so very soothing after a 14-hour day of work.


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