A blessed man, once tested harshly said, “Since his days are determined, The number of his months is with You;”

I wonder how much time I have left. I wonder if God hints at it, but we never notice. What if I am lost. I end up asking,

My days are numbered, My number of months are with you,

What of late bloomers Who are yet to find their place? Those that keep getting lost, Then found, and lost again.

Those that, whatever time they have left are bleeding out on their beds when it is their time to walk? Their days are numbered but can they start late?