Time has a way of tricking us into thinking that it’s real, as if the passing of a day can somehow be measured by the numbers on our clocks, the years we live reduced to check marks on a calendar, days with names crossed out and put behind us.

I watched a sunset once rest for several hours just above the horizon. It idled in a bath of brilliant violet-blue and shot a pin of light filtered just enough to let me watch it closely while it loitered, a single point that spread across the curvature of earth in orange bands that covered up a black expanse I knew to be behind it. The clock was unaware that day refused to settle.

It should’ve lasted only minutes. It should’ve been the melting of a day that rendered night, the passing of a light to darkness that would wane itself and bring about another light to make another day.

Instead, the day resisted, and it lingered there before me pouring sun through times I’d never seen to dye the sky defiant colors, to anneal the evening in a perfect sketch, a slowly burning effigy of time.
#somewhere #sunset #horizon

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