Disclaimer: Do not own any part of Doctor Who. All mistakes I will admit making...
As all journeys go, there was at one time a beginning. The journey of the body, a merging of atoms and molecules into a structured template forming that which could be defined as a living, breathing, moving, adapting, growing, fading, eventually dying, entity.
Conscious thought followed, being neither definable as good or bad, it just was. Discovery, from the infinitesimal to the multiversal and everything in between, unfathomable in it's size and reality, ever-changing, ever-expanding, recreating, rewriting, reshaping, all in it's wake. Thus is written the journey of the mind.
The journey of the soul is all encompassing. Life, death, delusions, dreams, hopes, all deciding factors along the path traveled by experience leading to imposed morals, right and wrong determining the path to a utopia, a contrast to how it would unfold.
A Champion, Master, Keeper, no, Lord of Time, not content in the role set for him of observer, rather a willing and eager participant influencing choice, offering free will, and unburdening the oppressed. They would have labeled him meddlesome, antagonist, instigator, non-conformist, a harbinger of unrest, instead they chose to call him an outcast and rebel.
The journey of the heart.
He'd both loved and been loved. Parents, siblings, children, grandchildren, relatives, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, strangers, foes, enemies, those similar and unlike himself. Then there was Rose. A simple human barely beyond childhood, blossoming into womanhood like her namesake. Whereas he had experienced far more than any human mind could comprehend, going beyond the mere physical and emotional, it was the embodiment of spirit, mind, soul and body. A vulnerable, unrestrained sharing of thoughts, feelings, sensations, ideas and self with another. Rose. The one being unafraid to love him back unconditionally, looking beyond his faults, his grief and guilt. She nurtured the tiny spark of hope inside he had thought long gone, allowing him once again to believe. She was the one, willing to stand against him when their views differed, standing for him when there was no one else, standing next to him holding his hand. She had given the ultimate sacrifice. Her life for his, which he then willingly and without regret returned. Twice.
The journey of a lifetime ever moving ones self onward. So many footsteps define the path one chooses to walk. Decisions mark the turning points, and at times one may be blessed to walk with another. The rarest gift of all, a soul-mate, a kindred spirit with which to traverse the stars.
No matter the length of his journey he knew he'd never be alone.