The sun is lowering,
Slipping toward the edge of the world,
And I'm here to meet it.
I feel the air changing,
The warmth easing back,
The cool rising in to take its place.
The lake before me is alive with ripples,
Each one catching the light like tiny moving mirrors.
I breathe in,
Deep and steady,
Pulling in the scent of water,
The quiet hum of evening.
I hold it,
Just long enough to remember what fulfillness feels like,
And let it go,
Watching my breath become part of the breeze that brushes the surface.
The sky is painting without pause,
Brush strokes of pink spilling into soft orange,
A quiet wash of lavender holding them together.
I notice how the colors don't compete,
They blend,
They share the space,
They know that beauty doesn't rush.
I look at the sun,
Half hidden now behind the clouded curtain,
And it reminds me,
You can still be breathtaking even as you disappear.
I feel its reflection stretching toward me,
A golden red ribbon across the water,
And for a moment I imagine walking it like a path,
Each step taking me closer to something I can't quite name,
But know that I've been missing.
I let my thoughts drift,
Not the kind that pulls me under,
But the kind that wanders like the wind over the water.
Each one comes,
And each one leaves,
Like waves meeting the shore.
The horizon blurs now,
Sky and lake almost indistinguishable,
And I'm reminded that boundaries are softer than we think,
That endings and beginnings are not doors slamming shut,
But tides trading places.
I take one last breath with the sun above the water,
And another as it sinks away,
Knowing it'll rise again,
Not because I demand it,
But because that's what it does,
That's what life does.
And so I sit,
I stay,
I let the quiet settle in my bones,
And I let the light,
Even fading,
Be enough.
