It's The Tale of Time in his glory days,
When father son spite was no mere lore.
The age of gold is when neither Time's gorging
Nor neutering was e'er heeded as gore.
Of Time's time in many fathom far a prison
In Tartarus - the lightless lair;
He lived with his kin
For his Father - Uranus; exiled them there
To, when armed with a sickle and a mother's cry
Only He stood up and cared to dare
And lay the vengeance upon the king
Neutering him with the blade, leaving him but bare
But was it Time's Will,
Was it Greed,
Lust,
Gluttony,
Or Despair,
Or did he plain do so, for his mother's care?
Then proceeded the golden age
And all was just and fair
Until such a day arrived - he beheld
The imminent ages conniving glare
In his rule when law was an unneed
He was made painfully aware
That for his own ill deed
The nemesis was spelt in his own heir
The idea to arise from the story of Time
Is, despite the sins and brutality and grime
His days were those spent in blatant peace
By those cursed by mere mortality
While he and his kin with all rulers of universe
Dipped to bones in immortality
That’s if you don’t involve immorality!
Then again who sets the pace?
And who’s to say what’s right what’s wrong
Who could deny that it was The Time’s own age!
