Of them. Of me. And of time so inadequate.

Slow down! Slow Down!
They all tell me.
You have time. Loads of time.
They all tell me.
How do they know?
I have to ask.
Do I have a lakh of days
or just enough for a prayer?
How do they know?
Do they have enough?
Whether ten or a thousand?
How do they know?

I look at them,
by the road side,
sleeping on their mats
in the heat with no taps.
I swallow a tear
too embarrassed every time
as I pass on by in my ac car
knowing my time will come
in five years or so
when I can help their kind
and change their world
as much as I can

Now I wait
As I have waited since I was eight
The time is close now
Dream, I can now
Plan, I should not
lest it takes from the path.

Time is short and the wait is long
Only by finishing my first can I go to the next
Will it run out if I run faster?