Early morning rain, born of dew in the sun,
never meant to be half dropped on the grass,
between the shades of blue and green,
a drop is born and dead.

Dials on a clock, falling in circles,
behind one's own shadows, winding their life on the dial.
an eternity lived in the space of a circle,
it stays still as the time flies by,
all the brilliance of life lost in the sands of eternity, unseen.