In Light of the Dying Sun

Portraits of the Soul Part 2

A sick part of my soul watches in pleasure as the sun fades and dies. I can sit there and stare out over the roaring ocean waves as the sun plunges towards the cold depths, on its way to the abyss. Of course, the sun doesn't fall into the ocean...but it appears that way. I watch in both glee and relief as the sun, my daily tormentor, comes full circle in the sky and begins its descent, plunging the world I know into darkness. How strangely odd that the sun's dying moment's have to be its most beautiful...No two sunsets are the same. I much prefer this moment in time...the coming of night...when I no longer need to feel exposed by the sun, seen by other human eyes. People still see me at night, but I am wrapped in shadow, mysterious. And with the dying of the sun comes a rebirth of the hidden side of me, the heart and soul that does not expose herself to prying human eyes during the day. The death of the sun...if only for a few hours...gives me hope that I no longer need to hide.

--> Dara Black