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I saw all the oppression, That is done under the sun; As tears of their obsession, For the condemnation done. No one would comfort them, Although they had the power; They knew that God will condemn, When reaching at the hour. I thought the dead who were dead, More fortunate than to live; For the evil they were fed, More than righteousness could give. Who saw what evil has done, When they had been still alive; Evil deeds under the sun, How could anyone survive. I saw the toil and skill, The work from having envy; Exertion someone could kill, His neighbor turns enemy. For this is all vanity, And striving after the wind; That causes insanity, If one not disciplined. The fool is folding his hands, His own flesh that he will eat; Not knowing what God demands, Has no shoes for on his feet. Better is the quietness, Than a day full of toil; Or evil illicitness, Then buried in the soil. Vanity under the sun, A person with no other; Not admired what was done, By a son or a brother. Yet there is no end to greed, Depriving of his treasure; And not finding any need, By having any pleasure. Copyright © 2019 Richard Newton Sherrer Vote for this poem
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