LOST TIME
On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time
But it is never lost, my lord.
Thou has 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, and 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.
Rabindranath Tagore