When you're a Time Lord,

Things start to fade.

People, places, events, memories moldering,

Sinking into a quagmire of forgetfulness,

Deep in the cavernous halls of a Time Lord mind which echo,

Emptily.

So you run.

You run after the things that were,

Only to discover that-

You are running in vain.

You are chasing rainbows.

Running after shards of light.

Prisms of dew.

The corner of a mirror,

When the sun strikes it right.

Running is useless,

And you know it.

But you run anyway-

Because giving up helps no one.

Run after the past,

Time Lord,

Run.