I comprehend all.
Do you not see, little ones?
In his vast agelessness he is neither just,
he is a perpetual child with a magnifying-glass, focusing a thousand infernal furies upon you.
He is Time, and he has his grubby little fingers upon your wings, ready to pluck.
He is Time, and he will steal from you everyone you ever love.
He is Time, and he will burn the stars in your eyes to cinders.
He is Time, and he is not coming;
he is already here.