Let me tell you a story.
Let it be a story about knights.
Being a story about knights,
let it also, naturally, be about courage.
Let one knight be called Time.
Let the other be called Soap.
And let them fight.
First, Time emerges to their list,
armor all purple and gloaming.
Brandishing a wicked sword, Time
runs through its motions,
every slice a riposte that sings
with ill-intent.
Then, Soap comes to their lane,
straddling nothing but the wind itself.
Weaving in time with their breath, Soap
charts its subtle dance,
every turn an intimation of
a time where you were easy.
Now the two knights come forth
and meet in the middle. "Lo!" cries Time,
"I am Time and I am come to end this thing
as I end all that is!" and Soap,
hunching their shoulders,
replies "I am Soap and I am come to undo you".
Time stands back. They adjust their sable pauldrons.
"Perhaps I misheard", Time intones,
"for I swear that you just challenged me!
Fool! I am Time! I bear the weight of all memory,
I am the brother of grief! I am the sister of defeat!
I weigh the world against a feather and find it wanting!"
Soap smiles. "Well, I
I smell like childhood.
And I feel like care. I
feel like your grandmother
telling you to wash behind your ears.
I taste of yesterday and tomorrow and forever.
For me, there is no lock; I work my way through wood.
I run past stone and leave it cleaner. To meet me
is to meet someone who loves you and,
in their harshness,
proves that they do. Time, recoil I tell you!
For I am the acerbic scent
of memory!"
Time, by this point all gloaming discarded,
all bluster disbanded, all strength leeched,
nothing more than a shade of a shade,
a thread spooling off an old cloak,
begs for mercy. Soap smiles and, finally, sweetly, says:
"Time, you have met your match; I am sudsy!"