Yesterday read a very nice poem. Out of sharing instinct copied it and was about to post it on Facebook.
When I opened my Facebook account, suddenly came across, kind of flood of public forwards, shares. Felt like the waves, thoughts, messages and deepness this poem is giving is not matching, corresponding with the mood of Facebook. Don't know why? And din't post this poem there. Anyway, sharing it here. ...
have I grieved over lost time.
But it is never lost,
my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things
thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts,
buds into blossoms,
ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed
and imagined all work had ceased.
In the morning
I woke up
and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.
- Ravindranath Tagore, Gitanjali