Keeper of time, they called him.
Tuner of the clock, weariless winder
Young man in his prime, yet unwithered
By winters unencountered.

By day he stood, silent as a shadow
Turning the clock till dawn turned to noon,
Noon to dusk, slivers of light painting his visage
Gold, red, silver.

Weariless he was, aye:
But he was a man, and like countless others
Not fully immune to the endearing charms
Of the Lady of the Wood.

A careless whisper, a sidelong glance, a gentle caress
Was all it took, and one condition:
“Pursue me and you shall have me,
Tread where none other does and master the world.”

Lust and avarice, those twin retainers of madness
Grasped at his mind, and thus he rose.
Deserting the clock, he pursued
That tinkling, silvery laugh, oh glorious artifice.

Through valley, rock and scorching plain
Oceans and deserts alike
Slave to hope, deaf to sense he followed
The Lady of the Wood, and walked to a place
Beyond the reach of Time.

A wondrous place, of songs unsung
A cave aglow with luminous voices.
And there he grasped his maiden for moments innumerable,
Before he found he was clutching at air.

Yet clutch he did, clutched
At promises unfulfilled, rapidly dissipating
For Time had thwarted him, slithering serpentlike
Sliding into the cave beyond Time.

Then the Keeper emerged, for he knew.
Racing back to his clock, movements dreamlike
Swimming through viscous air-like honey
The clock laughed. “Foolish Keeper,
Didn’t you know?
You stopped Keeping Time, now Time Keeps you.”