everything goes in circles, circles in goes everything

spring has sprung the day's begun so pack up your broken pieces put a smile on and lets get going
the morning sun suits your whiteness best but goes unnoticed yawning out the beginning hours
because the dawn is a sad time of quiet restlessness and swelling shadows cast upon silence of
dew saturated grass blades and fallen pale petals left from 'love you nots'
the day is a parade that continues on and on until night falls like spilt ink over a 'dear john' letter
it is not the absence of life, just the absence of light
so you've got your own midnight oil to burn, your own moon soaked canopy to lie beneath, your own glowing firefly lamp
pointing out the stars that shine north and south with connecting constellations spanning generations,
all within a small window box of space that comets penetrate, everything else standing still
yet time goes on and on
and we only move within ourselves
until we cannot remember the original question that started it all