The Ground, It Weeps

Dew settles on the sun,
Settles on the shadows,
Lies beneath a labyrinth of footsteps,
Unnoticed, yet so mystical it is.
Thousands of books yield to such a state,
Owe their pages to these little teardrops,
Teardrops that paint a story in our eyes.

Brilliance redeems its hue within these globes,
Spotting foxes in the deep blue sky,
Writing symphonies from the daylight's cry.
The time of mourning begins to fade,
The newborn, silent in the stars,
Shows his true colors to our eyes,
Renouncing Fall's glory upon these droplets.

Yet time will pass,
And they shall slowly wash away,
Leaving stars alone until the night.
As the newborn lies decrepit in his age,
Singing colors of the oceans tale,
Another fox begins to fade
Upon the floor of midnight's masquerade.