Better Late Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Better late

I shall die young
if do something wrong
hurt people who are close
and reposed trust

what have I on hand?
only clay and sand
only enemies and no friends
when nears an end

I have learnt
and remain bent
on the feet of an almighty
to grace me with mercy

better late than never
I have soul's offer
to stick to the belief
to get some kind of relief

I have some aspirations
that help to build durable relation
I share love and not the grief
hate invades in mind but remains for the brief spell

what had been my mission?
was it confined to the admission of guilt?
go to holy places and seek blessings
but is it real approach for massive misgivings?