Grateful for a Sunset

I am grateful for a sunset, for a beauty that fails to disappoint, no matter how many times I see it. I am thankful for the pastel sky, painted with cotton candy-colored hues known only to this hour and watercolor. A sunset makes a dreamer; the visual deliciousness opens a door towards awe and wonder. Gazing up at the pastel sky, everything feels so grand, so dramatic, like the crescendo of a song or the climax of a film. The sky sings, a concerted opera and symphony, conducted by the rays of light sifting through the air, finding a listener in my eyes. Why do I feel closure and catharsis, and to what?

The magnificence of the setting sun, or more accurately the rotation of the terrestrial rock I call home, marks the end of the day but moreover its transience; that all things that start must end; that all things that rise must fall. Like the sunset, I too am transient, living a life that will retreat beyond the unknown horizon.

I am grateful for a sunset.