Fire

I have been enraptured with sunsets as of late, spending many an evening with Duncan under the last blaze of the sky as the sun dips down behind the mountains. It seems I could fill my eyes with the kind of reds and golds which grow more and more brilliant with each passing second, building upon themselves exquisitely, almost painfully, each solitary moment better than the last, like good food and wine followed by more good food and wine, or sex without end. I stood in wonder on the lake trail tonight, caught between the fire in the sky and the fire on the water and wondered when I'd be engulfed, when my awe would become so great it would turn in on itself and combust. There are many places in the world I want to visit and walk; sometimes my soul aches to see them, but tonight I was meant to stand in the middle of the trail, my face turned into the fire and gape like nothing else could make me gape at that moment, as if I'd been born to do nothing but witness the coming of this night, to cause the people passing me, oblivious to the world around them, to turn and stare also, to hold Duncan next to me and memorize every shade and hue, every subtle fluctuation in the colors and carry them home with me like I'd carry a butterfly, open-palmed and gently so as not to lose it in my haste.

Sometimes it is difficult to be alive, to plod through a day and wish only for its conclusion, but sunsets such as this are reason enough. Sometimes the conclusion is the reward for the toils and challenges and make the rest of it, the struggle and exhaustion, somehow sweeter. If I can say nothing else about this day I can say I stood with open eyes and heart and let the melting rays of the sun wash through me and reignite my spirit so I could bring it home and hold it close, like the memory of someone's hand in my own, warm and soft and of a perfect weight.

"The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire."
(Pamela Hansford Johnson)