A.N This started out being about Angela from the Inheritance cycle, but the whole time I was writing it I had the Doctor at the back of my mind (watched Family of Blood the other day) and eventually he took over. Although it could still apply to Angela as well, most of it.

Oh, who are we kidding. She's a Time Lord, no doubt about it. Anyway, I stole a lot of the phrases in this from books I've read, films, poems… if you recognise them all you're quite incredible. Tell me any you spot when you review, yes? And if you particularly like a sentence, chances are it isn't mine. But hey. Someone, and I have no idea who, once said "writing is the art of skilful plagiarism." Or something like that. Enjoy!

I am time.
Sometimes that's how it feels.

I am ancient and alone.
But it's easier to forget.

I am wiser than anyone knows and older than anyone understands. I have seen things which cannot be believed and lost more than anyone can comprehend.
But there is always something and someone new.

I watch the patterns in the stars and understand more than even I know.
But right now it's this place and this people which are important.

I have been here for ages and ages past, and will be here for eons to come.
But I live for today.

The mortals come and go in the blink of an eye.
But each one is important and they see with fresh eyes.

I was born in the mists long forgotten. My death will come, I know not when.
But every decision is a new birth and the death of a path not taken.

Maybe one day I will return. Things will have changed. People passed on. New friends made.
But way leads on to way, and who am I, even I, to plan to return? I doubt I shall ever come back.
But that is ok. There are new ways and new paths.

I watch the ebb and flow in the fabric of the universe. Eddies in space and time.
The storm is building and raging and the sun is dying. But tomorrow a new sun will be born, and I remember.

Nations rise and fall. Kings take their stand and rage as their light dies. They are the knights of the summer but I, even I, know that winter is coming.

Sunrise, sunset, swiftly the years flow by, children are born and grow and love and fall, their stories ever the same and ever a surprise, and who am I, even I, to laugh at them as at a child's playing?

I am the beginning and the end. Of myself. I pray there is something and someone else. I pray there is a god who watches this sorry wasteland of a universe, a justice higher than karma or fate, and who am I to say there is not?
Even I have not seen all there is to see. Maybe someone has.

Sometimes I am afraid that it's me. What justice here can I dispense? Where does my authority come from?

I bear the weight of the centuries but I am a child and in the night the ages crush me.
But in the morning the tears of a lonely wanderer who has seen too much are dry on my eyelashes.

There is always a new morning. Who am I, even I, to waste a day?
There are places to go and the wheel of time is spinning on. I cannot stop it. I can only jump on and enjoy the ride.
If I stop I will fall. Time spins on, and who am I, even I, to waste the days which have been given me by I know not whom?

So get up.

Greet the day with the enthusiasm of one who has seen enough days to know that no day is ever the same as any which came before.

Life is short, even mine, so off we go on another adventure.
And try not to think too much.

I am time.
But no. I, even I, am merely a time being like everyone and everything else.

I am ancient and alone,
But who am I, even I, to decide that life is not good?