Time is endless in thy hands , my lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers .
Thou knowest how to wait.
Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small flower .
We have time to lose ,
And having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.
And thus it is that time goes by
While I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
And thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest the gate be shut;
But I find that yet there is time.
-Rushabh Mehta