O time, you bittersweet rival.

An elusive assassin of life,

wanderer without death.

A beginning that cannot bee conceived,

An existence best considered imaginary.

Of you I have mine own,

Yet all experience in the same and unique right.

Many seek to travel through you

to escape the shackles which you have placed.

Yet in your prison of which we are all kept

We each hold our own Key.

For twas not you who condemned us here, o wondrous time,

But instead was only

ourselves