With hands soft as cotton

A lazy man sits.

His voice echoes from room to room

sounding his complaints.

Reaching the ears of those to whom he speaks.

The echoes don't stop when he stops

Nor do they run when he runs

For he runs to the lair of excuses

And the echoes don't follow him.

They return to the ears of their listeners

And haunt them from the time the man speaks

To long after he stops.

The man says, "Get up. Do fine works."

But he does not do fine works

nor does he do vile works

because his hands are soft from idleness.

The listeners hear the complaints

but it does not move them to change

their course of actions.

They are irritated

so they stop listening.

They look at the lazy man from far away

as they sigh about his idleness.

They go back to their former deeds

Finishing their works,

And reaping the results.