I Watched the Sunset Today

I watched the sunset today.

I saw the neon light radiate from the horizon, it glowed that pinkish-orange color you only see when the day ends. Above it, the bluish gray clouds, overcast across the broad sky, reached down to hug the contrasting colors. Wispy clouds streaked a smooth, water-like pattern, like a river in the sky. The glowing light illuminated the tree in our yard beside the stone driveway, creating a black, pure silhouette. Power and life seemed to float off of the tree. The setting had a pure ambiance; don’t ask me how it was pure, it just was. Leaning against an old tool shed, no sound entered my ears, not one, except that of the natural world around me. A bird sang a goodnight song cheerfully; insects came to life in the distance. The world was safe. As long as the earth retained its divine beauty, nothing could ever hurt me. I was afraid to look away from the scene; I was afraid to go inside long enough even to get a camera in fear that the image of faultlessness would leave me. So I stayed, and I gazed. I witnessed what was the most extraordinary sunset I’ve seen in what must be an eternity. It paused time, but somehow, time also accelerated. The pink ray of hope was quickly vanishing from my vision: faster, faster. This place could not sustain the sunset; like a vagabond, it was constantly moving to new destinations. Eventually, the world was dark. The singing bird had gone to bed, and the chirping crickets had greeted the night. Haunting memories of absolute perfection lingered in my mind. The sunset that I had experienced just a few minutes beforehand had gone away where some other dreamy teenager could marvel at its splendor. I was almost sad that this wondrous occurrence still existed only as a memory, but then I realized something: whenever God takes away a sunset, he gives you a starry night.