ON HIS BLINDNESS 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 Lodg'd 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." ...
In the sky, sun is tired In the earth, flowers are tired In the heart, man is tired But still they are working.... All are running with the time All are running behind money No humanoid...no happiness ... All are going away from conscience... Tears are in the street With the raining water Birds come and drink it Then fly away with the happiness... Earth gave place for flowers Sky gave place for birds Sea gave place for waves Man gave place for evil... One day god will regret One day man will regret One day nature will regret When the whole world dies...
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