Birth of a poet

Not the nature of mine
Yet made to be by nature,
Covered in the clouds of time
Lay undone what I can;
Like truth, at times it reveals
With no gain intended,
When pushed into
I just play my part.
Who cares, not even me
But still it ain't dried,
Not the rain that waters
Yet no sun will burn;
Time will bring it in
And time will take it out,
From nowhere it comes
And to nowhere it goes.