In toil we find the sweetest gain we seek, The fruits of labor bloom in each small task. A whispered promise, uttered, not for the weak, That deeper treasures lie beyond the mask. So rise, embrace the challenge, make it count! The gold we gather, currency and praise, A swift reward, a prize within our hold. These gifts can pass, through life's unfolding maze, From generous hands, a story to be told. A bonus earned, a favor freely shown, These outward joys may brighten any day, Like seeds that flourish, everywhere they're sown, Then given, shared, along a common way. They lift your spirit, fuel your onward pace! Yet, wisdom whispers softly, not for the meek, Of riches born where spirit truly thrives. The satisfaction that the soul can speak, The quiet courage as the heart revives. The purpose found, when every effort binds, The growth within, a knowing deep and true. This inner harvest, only the toiler finds, A vibrant joy, continually anew. Press on, for glory waits in every st...
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