Slow Progress

I found a slasher, rusted bad;
I scrubbed with resolution.
With stone I sharpened up the blade,
then swung it with volution.

I found that even with the tool
as fresh and sharp as ever,
to cut the grass was slow and grueled
my body with its tether.

I found a lesson hidden there:
that work has, from the ancients,
been blazing trails and felt unfair
for progress comes with patience.