a million sunsets

Now I can see the sunset, and it is beautiful. It is a hazy, warm sunset, mostly oranges and pinks, rising up from the horizon into a dark indigo. The sun is long hidden, only the memory of its rays lights the sky now. The land is dark, the silhouetted trees standing black and sharp against the sky.

Up above me the sky is a deep blue like the ocean that colours it. It is darkest up there, like an ink that stains the earth, a darkness that creeps slowly down around us until we are enveloped in its warm cocoon.

How many sunsets have I seen? How much beauty have I seen everyday, and turned my eyes away from? I like to think I notice it now, that I always have even. I have always been someone who stops to blow the dandelion seeds, someone who stands still in an empty field, eyes risen to the huge expanse of sky above. I love it all, and I feel for every blade of grass, almost as though it is part of me, like I am just an extension of it all.

The mosquitoes are starting to bite now, and though they are a mere annoyance I know that tomorrow my skin will be on fire. The others slap at them too, the occasional clap punching through the music. The sky is almost all dark now, the trees and distant hills hidden in the shadows.

I hope I never forget to watch the sunset.



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