The shadowiness of grey,
With the grimmest glossy lining,
Cannot hinder the sun from shining,
No matter the sky in the way.

A flower needs brightness above,
As a heart requires virtue,
The heart needs a light to turn too,
Just as the flower requires love.

Dimly woven dreams of growth,
An internal quest for progress,
Beliefs that rarely ever digress,
A path that complicates both.

But a dying star has not shown its all,
As one blast is yet to come,
So with anticipation far undone,
It does not even define the fall.

For a cloud does not sing a song,
But merely floats along the day,
Heat always dedicatedly eating away,
At the changing daydream of those gone.

But the water cycle that fuels life restarts,
Breaking new clouds into a new light,
And much to a growing flowers delight,
Never keeping it and water apart.