The Phase

If the great times didn’t last,
The bad ones won’t either.
Fate spares none,
Not you, me neither.
Every hand in the clock,
Second, minute or hour,
Reaches the top once,
Then drops down far
The one that stays down for long,
For long it rules the top
The one that goes up soon,
Falls down with a single hop
Short- lived are dewdrops on grass,
I’m sure, this phase too will pass.