I moved all the old-fashioned clocks up an hour last night.  I have never had this feeling before, but for some reason I felt like I was violating some immutable law of nature that isn’t supposed to be tampered with.  
Time is a mysterious, non-personable, unstoppable force that has no personality whatsoever.  It has no emotional empathy for any one, or any process. 
Time is cruel, and time can be good.  It is all dependent upon how we travel through it.  
We use strange phrases when it comes to time. Like it is “time to go to bed”; time doesn’t care when you go to bed.  It is “time to get up”; time doesn’t care if you ever get out of bed. It is “time to eat”; time doesn’t care if you feast or fast.  “I guess his time was up”; time doesn’t really care if you live or die.  “Did you have a good time?” We never have time; time seems to have us. 
Every time someone close to me dies, I can’t help but notice how time just keeps rolling on, just like the world.  It never pauses for a moment of silence, it must continue moving on.  With or without us, time doesn’t seem to care.  I never think of eternity as time continuing on forever, but rather eternity is where there is no time at all.  That is hard for us to even begin to try to comprehend.
Did you know that time zones were not needed until we had our railroads laid and functioning across the country?  Charles Dowd, in 1863, proposed a system of one-hour time zones for American railroads.  In 1870 he proposed four time zones, and confusion over time zones would continue until 1916 when it was ratified by popular vote to formally adopt our modern-day time zones.  
Well, guess what? It is time for this column to end, but wait a minute, time doesn’t care if this column ever ends.  Good thing I do.