A fine Victorian era poet and his soulful lines left an abiding impact in me as I sat reading some of his poetry on a lazy weekend. One of it particularly made sense of my situation
We cannot kindle when we will
The fire in which the heart resides;
The spirit bloweth and is still,
In mystery our soul abides.
But tasks in hours of insight will’d
Can be through hours of gloom fulfill’d
-Mathew Arnold
(It is difficult for man to have inspiration at his beck and call. Tasks proposed when inspired shall have to be carried out patiently even when inspiration has passed away and weariness has prevailed upon man)
