Time is endless

Time is endless in the 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 wild flower.

We have no 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 claim for it,
and thine after is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day I haster in fear last thy gate be shut,
But I find that yet there is time .