I was a prince. I was, once beyond a time. There, then, I was revered. The others knew me, loved me, and held me in high regard. I was not without reknown, known in the world of men as nothing less than a deity. Deific reverence was offered unto me as a sweet-smelling sacrifice. I drank it in. I reveled as the devotion to me increased. I was wont for nothing.
My job was a necessary one. My brothers, my friends, the Princes, assisted me in our greatest ambition, our chiefest desire. We spun times and times ago, spinning Time itself. As the clock of the universe began to tick, we knew it was all finally a matter of time.
Time passed, time came, time loomed in the distance. The enternity of time was a reality all of the Princes had come to accept. However, as the worship of our followers began to wane, as other gods arrested their desires, lured them with sensual pleasures, and adulterated them, time became weak. Soon, time itself was revered, yet not us. Not I either.
Some of us began to grow illusioned. My brothers, the Princes, soon became my adversaries. As siblings gave way to rivalry and amity to enmity, my anger soon became tangible. I did not have time, for time itself had forsaken me.
In my fury, I dashed the great dance of time to pieces. All time broke, snapped, froze, and unraveled. No time was time anymore. Was it ever time? Now that we had time, I arose and took leadership.
My brothers became jealous of my powers. They coveted my status. I simply wanted to unite us. My efforts to do so only united them, against me.
As I untied time, as I timed out, lost time, gained time, and made time, the others conspired. That one fateful time. They all rose up against me, stating it was about time someone had taken the time. They wrested time, thinking they were saving time, only to miss time as it spiralled out of time.
They trapped me here. I could not fight them. My time had come. They imprisoned me, using my time to save theirs. Spending time as a currency, they took the time to take time away. Time no longer ticks forwards. It ticks a myriad of ways. Backwards, upwards, leewards, and earthwards. The chains binding me bind time itself. I am Time.
My mind has no Time. I know no chronology, no order in time, but in time all things lose time. My memories jump from future to past in no time at all. The only time I observe is the time I keep.
The world of men. All consumed with time. Time to do, time to be, time to not. It is all time to them. They run out of time, and then become time. With time, in time, their time becomes all time.
They all dream to time travel. As there is no time, I take the time to observe them. They all wish to know time. As Time itself, I can say that Time has no master. No master except Time itself, and time.
I bide my time here, the gears steadily clicking, irregularily yet readily pulling on the chains of time that bind me. But my time will come. I know it will come, in time.
I just hope it will come in time.