I feel like everything around me is slowly dimming, like a sunset.
I want to reach out, to grab it, to pick it back up.
To keep it in the sky. Keep it shining. Keep it gleaming.
But, well,
you can’t pick up the sun.
I just have to stand here, and wait for it to rise again.
But I don’t know how long, how cold, how dark the night will be.
I don’t know what will happen, if anything.
But the sun will rise again, just like it always does.
It will.
Won’t it?
NoWrongAnswers-- to say that i enjoy reading this piece would be a gross understatement. since you posted it, ive read it over and over (and over) again. ive been in this dusky plane of mind described here so many times; i almost feel as if i have an intimate relationship with each and every word you use. your writing style is precise and poignant, and because of this it entraps the reader in a unique and intriguing way. keep blessing the forum with your prose.