My favourite moment of the day is sunset. The golden rays of the setting sun reveal a lot to me: better is the end of something than its beginning. Watching the sun fall yields to me how an infant my soul will remain. I don’t want to get used to it. It heals a part of me. Surely, it’s a very personal nostalgia for me, one I enjoy alone.
One good thing about the countryside is the abundance of green spaces. I remember sitting in empty fields by myself. I only had to share with numerous insects, birds and rodents. I believe they all came to witness the sunset. For me, life goes beyond the noise of hustle-bustle.
I’m reliving a moment I cherish so much. Sometimes pens and words can’t carry all the meaning a poet tries to see or capture. Good night my friends.
Night Poem: Setting Sun
I wonder why she hides behind the hills and clouds
Shying away from the approaching breezy evening
On clouds where birds fly in echelon, calling a farewell as they went
On casted tree shadows hanging on the springs like rags on the rail
Bored frogs may resume their croaky ballads;
Hundreds of bass voices singing, in harmony
The coloured clouds melt before the retreating day
As queer images are drawn across the greying skies,
From the distance, the shepherd calls to his happy sheep
For the solemn day and her escort has packed their caravan
And soon the dark clouds will conceal all in her warm embrace