Sunsets, like childhood, are viewed with wonder not just because they are beautiful but because they are fleeting.” ― Richard Paul Evans, The Gift
Sunsets, like empires and memories of love long ago, fade slow; first brilliant, then warm, and finally passing to silk brocade on black velvet. How much more beautiful they are in memory when the busy moments of planning and passing through life have stilled.
Quiet moments alone in the golden light before twilight settle on the mind like a needed opium with desire and ache too strong to let pass unnoticed. The hushed voice and face of some long passed memory stares back in dispassionate calm. Eyes pierce through the haze of colors and cloud. A face stilled in the background of that fading day beckons us to remember without the burning fire of those first moments when the memory formed.
Now, we can remember and smile. The pain has passed and in time the sun will break a new dawn in those same brilliant colors it sets with. And in the day, if luck holds, new memories are born to replace the old.