I remember a time of heroes.
Of swords in stones and princesses in towers,
When kings could be noble, and princes knew to be pure of heart.
When revolution brought together even the most bitter of foes, and men still learned from one another.
A time long since past.
For infinite years I have walked this Earth, and I shall walk it an infinity longer.
Through it all I still recall each year, month, week, and day.
Every name and face has burned itself unto my mind, I carry them all everywhere I go,
For this is the curse of all immortal things: Memory.
Yet still when I think back to it all, I feel my own infinite age.
So much, it all feels at times like just a dream,
And I fear that my all wisdom is perhaps merely myself grown foolish and senile.
Though I know all my fears untrue: nothing would harm a unicorn, not even time itself dare lay its hands upon such a beast, and so senile I know I could never be.
Yet I feel it still.
In my heart and in my mind,
Time long gone weighs itself heavy.