Around this time every evening (ignore the clock thingy on the bottom of the post. It's incorrect.), starting last week when I wasn't as entrapped in the valley of illness and had awareness to take note of my surroundings, I saw it for the first time:
Last Tuesday the blinds were left parted and the sun was no longer visiting me while I lay confined to my bed, a physical therapy challenge was to sit up w without leaning against the bed. Casually I looked to the left, as there is where the window resides. Honestly I wasn't expecting much at all -- the city of St. Louis is busy, cars scurrying up and down the roads and never ending supply of too brightly lit street lamps.
But I discovered treasure.
The sun that had been greeting me in the hours before had not forgotten about me. Around 4:45 the sun begins to set, and in turn employs the sky that she is encapsuled by as her canvas. It begins subtly, the golden light the sun casts down upon the earth (and warms me as I lay in this lonely hospital room, high off the ground) begins to dim. For what she is about to do with that light is nothing short of breathtaking. The boisterous sky that in hours past boasted of azure blue and dotted with clouds in all the right places, begins to yield to what the sun has to show the world.
The overwhelming blue fades slightly as the sun lays the first streak of gold across it -- a prelude to the masterpiece. Hints of orange tinted pink begins to follow, flowing effortlessly in a ring, surrounding the cars and the cares of the people with its warmth. As the sky continues to darken, the sun begins the frenzied work that is dusk in the wintertime. Soon colors unimaginable start to jump out in quick succession, tangling themselves with one another, scrambling to find theor exact right location in a sky so wide. They know there is a perfect placement for them to shine, it is only a process of finding it. As all the colors find where they belong, the light reflects off the clouds as the cars continue to hurry to their destination. And over time, the portrait grows ever more so deeply captivating, the intensity of the picture before me is beyond the scope of words I posses.
Then as the beauty becomes almost too much to bear, the sun takes hold of her handiwork, and sets it ablaze. One would think burning something so diligently labored over would ruin it, that the act of destroying it was done out of anguish or maybe even madness. But as the sky grows ever more dark, the fire burning slowly in the horizon, I see that it is not the destruction the sun had in her mind at all -- for even the blaze casts an aura of peace. For out of the end of the daylight that marks the entryway into the night, that fire resonates in my heart and rekindles my hope in what is yet to come. In this fancy hospital on the tenth floor, where my will and even my very life were in dire threat of being taken from me...that fire that burns in the sky has imprinted on my soul, and I promise to myself that I'll never let that go.
Out of the smoldering ashes of the previous day rises a dawn anew, waiting. I agree to engage with the day and the challenges around me, as I watch a busy city, wondering if they to had noticed the setting sun at all.