Aidonian's blog

This is the third hymn written by Sannion. the fourth one was to Plouton.

Kronos, Lord of the Crooked Scythe,

Keeper of the measured breath,

You who taught eternity to fracture

Into moments sharp enough to cut.

Son of Earth and Sky’s violence,

You rose with iron resolve,

Ending a tyranny with time itself,

Proving even Gods may fall to patience.

All things pass through your hands.

Kings, harvests, constellations, empires—

Nothing outruns your stride,

Nothing escapes your accounting.

They name you Devourer,

But you are the truth beneath the fear:

That no beginning is owed forever,

That even immortality must end.

Under your reign the fields ripened,

The seasons learned their order,

And mortals were granted the terrible gift

Of knowing their days were numbered.

You bind past to future with relentless calm,

Neither cruel nor kind—only exact.

Hope trembles before you,

And wisdom is born from that trembling.

Kronos, Father of Time,

Teach us not to beg for more hours,

But to stand upright inside the ones we’re given,

Unflinching as the clockblade turns.

Receive this hymn, steady and unadorned,

Like a heartbeat counting itself.

Hail, Kronos—

Ender of excess,

Warden of becoming,

The hour that waits for all.