There are few things as inspiring as sunlight. Sunrise and sunset—sources of beauty that are so close to us, touching us softly but powerfully whenever we care to watch. Over the past one week, I have had the fortune of watching the sun rise over a creek every single day. The crispness and freshness of the morning light never fails to inspire me. The morning rays seem so much purer than everything else they touch, renewing promise and optimism each day. Even more amazing is the number of forms in which they can be seen. Whether filtering in through a glass window, piercing a gap between curtains, or breaking into a room as a sharp beam only to illuminate the chaotic dust particles, morning rays are beautiful. Then, there is the sky; azure sky, especially in the winter, is the perfect background, the perfect prop for sunrise to unveil its act of promise and beauty.
More intoxicating and captivating (personally, at least) than sunrise is sunset. Sunset is so beautiful that I am almost intimidated by its beauty when I try and describe it. If sunrise is inspiring, sunset is moving. There is a richness and depth to the setting sun that cannot be matched. The color of the mighty sphere just before it goes down is breathtaking—like the dance of pure fire in a flux of molten gold. This color calls out to the beauty within each of us that is fighting a losing battle against the inevitability of destruction but appears increasingly beautiful as it tries to prove its worth against a cursed end. And then, there is the sky. Sunset far outdoes sunrise in transforming the drab afternoon canvas into an intoxicating mix of color. An invisible magical paintbrush waltzes over the sky to wash the evening sky with various shades of, what I will call for the lack of any word that can do it justice, sunset color. After the sky, there is the glow. Where sunrise pierces, sunset envelopes. Gently, like children whispering little secrets into each other’s ears, the sunset envelopes our evening with a moaning glow that, for a few moments, seems to change the context of our existence. Finally, there is what sunset does to water—the trail of light from the sunset glistening on the surface of the sea, like a trail of bleeding memories that disappear into an ocean of sorrow. Stand on the seashore, and the trail will trace a path from the horizon to your toes. A graceful, touching, crying, smiling, powerful, and beckoning sunset—suggesting perhaps that the end can be more beautiful than the beginning.
The Earth is indeed a fortunate planet, to receive unconditionally something so pure, especially when its inhabitants make it play host to a world full of corruption, deceit, and compromise.
