SUNSET
The exact moment when the curtain drops
is as important as any bit of dialogue in the play.
Dusk has to happen; it can’t be postponed,
which is, if I were a playwright, and I’m not,
is what I’d want the audience to feel.
Let this thing be done with, I’d want them to think.
And as for that, I’d insist on a thing or two
different from the things I’ve seen.
The curtain should not drop at all,
but very gradually, like the coming night,
quiet darkness would envelop second by second
everything and everyone with just a hint of dread.
2 comments:
Jerral, Even in the context of a dreaded darkness there is an unexpected promise of a tomorrow that will grow from that darkness, it's written in the deepening hues of the sunset, don't you think? Maybe the awe you experienced came from what you know is yet to come rather than only from what motivated you to take the picture. Yet, sometimes what I see in the present moment is all I need, a timelessness burdened by neither past or future, a moment as vibrant and vital as each breath I take into my lungs gives me life0. That too is awesome. I think too that you've created a bridge of thought and emotion from the end of that pier to somewhere within that sunset and beyond. We've been battered by a snow storm that has stopped time momentarily, long enough for me to walk awhile with winter, and again fall in love with the seasons of nature and life. The kids are snow fun fanatics, a genetic trait I've passed onto them. It should be on the ground for Christmas!!!! For what more could I ask? Peace, Bob
Bob,
Yours is a very good way to look at sunsets... the way you see the glass half full instead of half empty. Thanks.
Jerral
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