Wisdom, Philosophy and the water drop travelling across oceans

The white, he noticed the white. It saddened him a bit, and he engaged into efforts to cover it up, hide it beneath the black. Started trying to solace himself. Doesn't white mean grey too. Isn't grey good. Hasn't the transition not been fruitless.
He looked at the blacks full of gaiety and laughter. A smirk swept across his self. The ones who are yet to see, yet to learn, yet to fall and yet to grey, or may be white. This made him happy, a wee bit happy.
The white returned soon or perhaps it was always there. It reminded him of the ticking sand Tee. He had to find something, someone.
He noticed a place all white, as pure as silver, untainted silver. The white, bright as silver but with no expression. Sunk into itself, withdrawn and withered. This white was different than his own, it was all white, all pure and it had no black to look upto. This made him happy even a bit content.
He yawned and started brushing his white.
As he turned the tap off a water droplet sparkled and smiled. Perhaps it smirked and then flushed itself down the drain.