A vast world frozen in the hold of time,
slowly gaining momentum with each turn.
Fruit aging to its pivotal prime,
then to fall to ashes in a decorative urn.

Rays of gold open the glory of morning
to face the blessing of a new day.
But across mountains, black clouds are storming,
rolling through greenlands over way.

Young and vibrant in the tiny seed,
instilling roots in fertile soil.
Developing into the stage of maturity,
passions let no other being foil.

To fall or be plucked from a sacred tree,
to survive or to wither as the rose.
A divine fate no human may forsee,
a path in which fate chose.

Strength that wilts as the petals fall,
but regained in the life of next.
And as the storm surrenders its thrall,
a life within the sun reflects.