Reflection and Dusk (Poem)

Reflection: Day End & Kindness

Why do I like it when it’s day end and the sunsets before my gaze? That’s a question which even a response from me may not explain precisely. Well, I don’t just enjoy the views of the beautiful sunsets alone, I worry about many things too.

Each evening is an ample opportunity for self-reflection. I do this in two phases; the first being a personal evaluation, which is concerned with examining my happiness level, achievements, and if I met my daily goals. The other analyses the impact of my action, work, and general lifestyle on other people’s lives and my environment. I try to recollect every bit of random acts of kindness, and this recharges my happiness battery. There’s a lot of pain out there, and the current global economy is not helping matters. So the least I can do is try to give myself to the service of others.

Giving out material things and money is not the only way to show kindness or compassion. There are other ways. One can be kind by choice of words, by offering seats or items to those who need it most, by helping the blind or older adult cross the road, giving decent advice, helping to carry someone’s bags, and in many other ways.

To end this little writing, I always remember the homeless in my thoughts and prayers. I feel pity for them, for it’s at looming evening and night that they face the greatest challenge.

Below is a piece of my mind on sunset. Please have fun and a good night!

Dusk

The slope of pointed hills
Black against the horizon
Threat the sun with a fierce thrust
As thin clouds streak across the sky

**

Cloud underbellies glow reddish hue
Evening warmth fight the heady moon
Vast plains stretched, savannah grass paradise
Sometimes lonely trees stand with yellow grass

Ancient, raw, scattered lights slowly gather
The city below, hills stand guard like a soldier
Listen now, for the flies cause noon stress
But the heat will send them away at once
Thick groves of pear and citrus shade the road
Nearby, human settlement; houses, huts are intertwined

The smell of ripe fruit romance the market pathway
Tomatoes gutted, grapes squashed on the clay
And when the hills see the sunset beneath them
It is gold – unexplainable, like a budding worm

Now there is light, the brown Earth bright
And on all things old, the setting sun shines