Where Time Prays

Where Time Prays. Picture by Suleman Yakub

Centuries have passed, yet this place remains—its walls shaped by time and remembrance. Standing here, I felt the weight of generations before me, and the certainty of those who will come after.

The prayer had begun. Time pressed forward, urging movement, reminding me that moments are borrowed, never owned.

What had been, has been. What is, is fleeting. What will be, belongs to God alone.

In that urgency, I understood something quietly: time does not interrupt faith—time itself bows within it.

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