In a Cave Somewhere with The Prince of Time

10-27-2011

“I see you’ve grown a beard!”

“Yeah..for the winter. My winter of discontent…

"Aren’t you just a clever dandy. Have a seat, let’s have a chat.”

…Have you been watching me?“

"I’m the Prince of Time, I don’t just watch people. Life isn’t a television show.”

“But I mean–”

“Now, now I know what you mean!–but just because I am the Prince of Time does not make me the physical embodiment of a concept…I’m the prince of moments, and memories. I don’t watch you. Or anyone. I miss shit, quite often actually.”

“…”

“You’ll notice I do not keep a watch on my wrist. (I actually do keep a pocket watch, for sentimental reasons of course. It was a wedding gift, it stopped working around the time we did.”

“If I open my eyes, do you go away?”

“No. but you won’t be able to see me, and you won’t be able to get back here, not without some serious drugs. The Prince of Dreams and I have a bit of an understanding, but we’ve never agreed on how he ordered events and how my kingdom seems to manipulate them–tea?”

“it’s cold…”

“But it used to be warm. Things like that happen a lot. ( a bit theatrical on my part, I know!)…oh fine then, cold tea?”

“yes please…do you visit people often?”

“Not if I can help it, which is almost never…so yes. I do. But let’s have a chat. Time hasn’t been kind to you, judging by the beard and shitty haircut.”

“I’m fine. I think. Most days.”

“listen, this is going to sound like a joke, but I don’t actually have much time with you…so I’ll try to cut all the camp and bullshit and get straight to it. I like you.”

“haha thanks. I like you to.”

“Well then I wish we had more time!–look at me, getting all flirty with only moments left. Story of my life..a very long life, mind you.–This tea is disgusting, don’t drink it love, it was supposed to be more of a metaphor.”

“I don’t mind it, actually.”

“Suit yourself…what we were saying? Ah–yes. Right. You’ve been pretty hurt, haven’t ya, love? The ebb of flow of the shore eroding your little feet and rusting your little heart.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know that. But people who are fine don’t have to keep reminding other people, or supernatural princes, in this case. (sigh)I’m afraid you don’t understand the nature of my domain, and so I’ve come here to help you.”

“What’s that sound?”

“The shores of the waking. Rising to drown us out of of this little darkness and take you away from here.”

“So what don’t I understand? About time, I mean?”

“Well the truth is darling, most humans don’t really get it. You make calendars, and celebrate birthdays and anniversaries and what not. It’s pointless.”

“That’s a point of view, I suppose.”

“I’m the fucking Prince of Time, my love! Perhaps my points should be minded.”

“Right…”

“Time is not cyclical. You have seasons, and decades and days and all that but it’s useless. It’s more painful to think of it that way.”

“Then…I don’t understand what…”

“The tide is getting higher, can you hear it?”

“Yes. I can barely hear you.”

“You going to wake soon. Look, it’s simple. Time is one line. And it didn’t start at your birth, and it doesn’t end at your death, or anyone’s really. It started at the dawn of time, and it will go on forever. It’s like this…if you were to cut yourself, it heals. Blood seeps out, you call your friends and you show them the scar. It doesn’t just reopen of its own accord…the cut isn’t echoed throughout the rest of your life. Say you cut yourself on a Wednesday, it doesn’t magically happen again the next Wednesday.”

“I know that, but..”

“Time is nothing more than memories telling us we’ve already experienced something else. That is what I’m trying to say, I think. You know this tea isn’t half bad…”

“I can’t…I can barely hear you…”

“Well it’s perfectly fine, as I’m barely making a point! Just try to remember dear, there is no such thing as days, or nights or weeks or anything. The importance we put on moments is myth and magic. It’s going to help you.”

“What do you mean?”

“…I’m very sorry. It’s time to wake up…”

Todd Rogers