The Ephemeral Reflection

In the clear drop at dawn,
a pearl trembles on fine grass,
an entire world condenses,
and a gentle secret is refined.
A fragile echo, almost a lament,
of a dream just born and already vanished,
a shy reflection, a feeling,
in its crystal rapid and infinite.
Then the sun rises, the veil unravels,
and the illusion dissolves into morning.
But that light, a fleeting yearning,
remains a sigh, a fragile destiny.