""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.

Cribbing about Injustice and fretting about goals not Achieved only begets ailments (depression?).

All of us have "wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hill
to see
"A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze

In moments of disillusionment with friends and foes

"when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils

Each one of the daffodils brings back the spring to "Arise, awake and Stop Not ..."