Or rather, as it started at midnight, it doesn’t.
As the Gregorian new year is upon us (and has passed) it is perhaps time to look at time, and how it appears to fly (the only thing that is able to at the moment, apparently). Tempus, as it is affectionately known, is often inconsiderate -for instance it waits for no man – but perhaps that is to be expected, as it’s character is rather one-dimensional (the fourth, apparently). But it can be generous as well – all children have been at time’s table (although not cheerfully so) – and it heals wounds.
Its contradictory nature is everywhere. Whilst everyone no doubt hopes that 2021 will be a light year, it would then also be an incredibly long one, which no-one eagerly waiting for their next birthday would appreciate. It has seconds, suggesting greediness, or perhaps a duelling nature, yet a search finds no instances where it has been accused of either of those vices. It is perhaps something that we will have to look in the minutes for, if we can locate the place where these (which apparently exist) are stored.
But for now, I think I shall look to end this, as it is getting late, and it’s time to go to bed.
Why it is always the one to go to bed is a mystery.
Severely odd 