God Must be Worker

Tajmahal

I amaze the workers how they did;

I think what were they at the time;

       I regard them as upper class like God. 

They worked hard daily at varied.

  Cut and curved the stones at varied.

  Constructed design  ways at varied.

Climbed up to work faceted faces

   Took the the the perfect alignments;

  Joined the varied designs smoothly.

    Stood, sat upwards awfully, tirelessly

       Creative and conscious minds worked;

          Courageous bodies tried to complete all.

     Immortal hands gave awful-finishing.

       Their Glitter sweats sprayed colorfully.

          Bloods ran in birthing Shining Tajmahal

Man leaves everything and passes.

Land, property, power will be left.

  Everything is backed to the owner. 

        

       Their thoughts, ideas, skills are theirs. 

       Their faceted images are still shining.  

   Tajmahal is blooming on the time's 

Unified Palm of Workers.