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