“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds
—
the lavender and indigo
mingle
swirl
and dance.
giving birth
to the purple hour.
purple is just as germane.
like gold or stinging crimson.
the sun is leaving.
but not really.
it is merely moving to the other side of the planet.
yet, the sun moves not .
we are the wanderers.
spinning.
and there will be another one tomorrow to kiss your eyes.
if today i don’t have the capacity to take in all the beauty,
no need to panic.
it will always be there.
everyday.
what would we do.
without cycles.
without routines.
without structures.
without sunsets.
what would we do?
—
which one is your favourite, sunset or sunrise?
—
I like the springing reversal of
“yet, the sun moves not .
we are the wanderers.
spinning.”
A complex goodbye to the evening..
Excellent.
thank you Lea, I’m so glad you liked it x
Beautiful uplifting poetry – especially ‘another one tomorrow to kiss your eyes’ – wonderful! <3
Thank you x
Beautiful poem!
thank you x
No problem!
What would do … without sunrise. Sunsets make me terribly melancholy, seeing the sunrise makes me feel that the only way is up.
Yes, I call sunrise the pink hour, everything is soft pink, very beautiful!