A prose descibing a beautiful sunset experience... |
This blissful evening is mine. I cherish the ring Of my crystal glass As I place it on the table Next to my chair. The warm breeze tastes of ripe blackberries Lying fresh and swollen In a patch of thorns somewhere close by. I lean back and look westward. All the brilliant colors of the day Begin to leak into the sky From the dimming horizon. The inks stolen from flowers and trees Sunlight and butterflies Slowly flooding from the tips of mountains And corners of leaves At the top of the tallest trees. The lustrous flames Of the crimson sun Bleed into the depths of the heavens And blend with the rainbow stripes Flowing like wine through the sky. As if jeweled flowers of ruby Emerald, amethyst, and gold Were melted down Into vials of radiant ink And an old, bearded painter Dipped in his brush And painted his splendid masterpiece In the sky. The minutes pass by And I watch as God sprinkles stars Like shining pearls Into the fading waves Of the dark blue sea. The audience sat in that moment Filled with the glory of nature And her breath-taking beauty. Only a handful of glossy ice cubes Slightly molded together Remained in my crystal glass. I then wondered to myself The worth of this brilliant production Without another heart To share it with. And a calm sadness Filled my heart; And I felt so cold. And I thought to myself Beauty missed Is the biggest tragedy Of this life we live. |