Been reading British Poetry for my Literary Exam (part of the Masters degree program that I’m pursuing, at the tail end of it — this being one of the last two course credits I need to take exam on) and bumped into this little gem. (Read it slowly, I’ve put the whole thing in a chunk… I sort of like it that way ;-))
When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait.”
Why? Because it cuts right through the heart of our lives. No matter how hard our surroundings might be and whatever the sufferings, we’ve got to price our worth in the world through hard work and dedication instead of pitying ourselves about the lost opportunities.
And irrespective of the condition we’re in, if our primary duty in this world to earn our worth by working with what we have to create the possibles we can.
Our struggles and sufferings are just trial by fire and we have to experience. There’s no other way. And that’s definitely not a reason to sit idle and brood about.
We just keep going. Profound? Well, mull over it not long, keep going.