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.