I watched the sun set almost every night of the week while living in Hawaii. I sat on my roof that was on this great ridge, seven degrees cooler up in the sky than its base along University of Hawaii.
I looked out over the skyline of Honolulu as the clouds crept in, seeping into the valleys and down the mountain. The sun danced different colors of light across the clouds as they broke and formed various shapes and lines. The ocean reflected these brilliant colors and bounced off the city structures.
As the last minutes of sunlight ticked by, the sky shifted scenes like a slow-moving kaleidoscope, transforming into several plays of colors and shapes.
Sometimes I was at other places, other shores as the sunset. Sitting on the sand of the north shore the brilliant ball would split as it set on the edge of Kaena Point. From the East Side the sun would disappear early behind the mountains and cast shadows over the colder shore. The skies would fade to a purple tint before burning out completely like a tired flame.
Watching the sunset from my roof gave me a promised peace. Facing southeast I knew the time and place this magnificent show in the sky would occur. Unlike the ocean, whose waves were fickle, the sun must set to divide the days.
You may consider dawn as the fresh, rejuvenation of life to its opposite, dusk, but as I soak up the radiance, the grace of the sun leaving the sky, it gave meaning to life each and every night.
I thought, if only people realized the brilliance that takes place above their heads every night, if only they stopped what they were doing, walked outside the structures and looked up, maybe the negative energy of the day could be released.
Like the practice of daily worship to Mecca, without the divisiveness religion harbors, I imagine people from across the world looking up and appreciating the peaceful, serenity in the sky.
I feel strain from living in the city. My lungs tighten and it’s hard to breathe, maybe its caused by the Los Angles air triggering my asthma, but maybe its because I’ve been missing the sunset for days at a time.
Sitting on the floor of the upper level of Border’s books I peered out the window at the periwinkle sky as the last light of day shone behind a palm tree. I realized I have become one of those people I pitied, one of those people that didn’t appreciate the closing of daylight. Café Americana clutched in my hand, I cried on the carpeted floor of Border’s, and vowed never to let something as silly as buildings stand in the way of my worship of the sunset.
I looked out over the skyline of Honolulu as the clouds crept in, seeping into the valleys and down the mountain. The sun danced different colors of light across the clouds as they broke and formed various shapes and lines. The ocean reflected these brilliant colors and bounced off the city structures.
As the last minutes of sunlight ticked by, the sky shifted scenes like a slow-moving kaleidoscope, transforming into several plays of colors and shapes.
Sometimes I was at other places, other shores as the sunset. Sitting on the sand of the north shore the brilliant ball would split as it set on the edge of Kaena Point. From the East Side the sun would disappear early behind the mountains and cast shadows over the colder shore. The skies would fade to a purple tint before burning out completely like a tired flame.
Watching the sunset from my roof gave me a promised peace. Facing southeast I knew the time and place this magnificent show in the sky would occur. Unlike the ocean, whose waves were fickle, the sun must set to divide the days.
You may consider dawn as the fresh, rejuvenation of life to its opposite, dusk, but as I soak up the radiance, the grace of the sun leaving the sky, it gave meaning to life each and every night.
I thought, if only people realized the brilliance that takes place above their heads every night, if only they stopped what they were doing, walked outside the structures and looked up, maybe the negative energy of the day could be released.
Like the practice of daily worship to Mecca, without the divisiveness religion harbors, I imagine people from across the world looking up and appreciating the peaceful, serenity in the sky.
I feel strain from living in the city. My lungs tighten and it’s hard to breathe, maybe its caused by the Los Angles air triggering my asthma, but maybe its because I’ve been missing the sunset for days at a time.
Sitting on the floor of the upper level of Border’s books I peered out the window at the periwinkle sky as the last light of day shone behind a palm tree. I realized I have become one of those people I pitied, one of those people that didn’t appreciate the closing of daylight. Café Americana clutched in my hand, I cried on the carpeted floor of Border’s, and vowed never to let something as silly as buildings stand in the way of my worship of the sunset.
