Even though things get old over time, they sometimes have another use. Time is endless, there is none to count the minutes. Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. Time doesn't know how to wait. The 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. It is that time goes by while I give it to everyone who claims it. At the end of the day my blossoms close in fear while the sun fades; but I find that yet there is time.
