The time itself is a machine that drives everything. As written in “Time's Paces’’ By Guy Pentreath :
'When I was a babe and wept and slept,
Time crept;
When I was a boy and laughed and talked,
Time walked.
Then when the years saw me a man,
Time ran.
But as I older grew,
Time flew.
Soon, as I journey on,
I'll find time gone...'