Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1671263-Waning
Rated: E · Monologue · Inspirational · #1671263
The futility of trying to capture a moment, to do it justice, before it is gone.

Turn my back to the sunset – to see the beautifully sharp, overexposed light. The magic time before the sun goes to sleep. The trees never look better. Seen as a forest a few seconds ago, individual trees come to view; every branch, every leaf unique perfection. The fading light turning them from bright green to black in a matter of minutes. Clouds drawn to the receding spotlight to reflect the drowsy light for one more second. Clouds have one ambition: emulate the sun. Birdsong escorting the sun in a lullaby, tiny swallows competing to see whose extended wings can hold the sun’s glow the longest in brief glides while sparrows get in one last game of tag. The light captures everything. The day changes. The cozy warmth replaced by its chilly absence. Bluebirds tempting the sun to stay longer with their best songs of the days. Or maybe the sleepy light makes it seem that way. A rusty chain link fence waffles the light into a plaid that goes perfectly with everything. Every leaf, every cloud every mountain sharp and intense like an overexposed photograph. Waning. Sensual. Palm trees, cypresses, banana trees. Grass. Dogs. Light hitting each hair, shining through fur revealing their true size. Wings of insects profiled in the glow, iridescent. Birds, clouds, mountains. Harmony we don’t understand and only see when it’s missing. Simpler than we know. More powerful. We could be part of it. Too often we are against it. Outsiders. Conquerors. Conflict. Noisy, boisterous. Out of place. Sky is liquid. Clouds, mirrors of changing light. Sensual breeze. Happiness. Belong. Notice. Awareness. Enjoy. Abuzz with joy. Share. Bliss. Sweaty chill. Wind through the trees like a soothing river, untangling branches like a mother brushing out her daughter’s hair. Nature going to sleep. Rest. Rejuvenation. The day ending, night beginning. Clarity in darkness. The end or part of an endless cycle? Something demanding our attention. Take notice. Important. Nothing else matters. Look at Me, listen to Me. I am God. I made this for you. Pay attention. Perfection not as rare as you think. It’s everywhere. It can’t be captured, tamed or lost. It can only be seen, appreciated. In a bird’s song. In a birds dive. The fronds of a banana tree dancing in the wind; a cedar’s stately bow. Palm trees in profile to the orange wash of the setting sun behind them. Perfection can’t be planned. It happens. It’s either seen or not. Chasing it chases it away. Relax and let come. Don’t chase. Just be. Harmony isn’t forced, it’s recognized. Our part, other part equal. So close to a discovery. The waning light is trying to tell us something. Do we hear it? Will we ever hear it? Is the discovery simply the understanding that we won’t discover the meaning? A million sunsets won’t give us the answer. There is no answer. We are. Orangewash. The word doesn’t exist. But it should. Sunset. Everything trying to be orange in the waning light. Waning, fading. Disappearing. Green trees, blue sky, sidewalks, electric cables, asphalt streets, concrete walls, houses, cars, people, dogs, cows, insects, birds, weeds, all doing their best impression of orange. Overexposed. Warm, cozy. Inviting. Waning. Perfect. A drug. A buzz. A high. Fading. Wafting. Floating. Rinsing. Orangerinse. Orangebath. How to capture it in black and white? There are no tools to do it justice. At least not in this toolbox. Too big. Too perfect. Too changing. Too fast. Too transitory. God’s paintbrush is quick. The futility of capturing a moment that cannot be captured. Disappearing. Enjoy. Moments. Frozen in our mind’s eye. Return whenever. Never go back…except in your memory. Filed away. This sunset. This moment. Will it be called on again? Or replaced by another moment? How many moments can we capture, remember, share, enjoy? Is it limited? Should it be saved or just replaced by the next “now”? Is memory evil? Should we be in the now? Can we benefit from the past? Absolutely. Does the future matter? It may never come. The now matters. The now is important and fading, waning…and gone. That now was. Another now is. Have we moved on? Are we stuck? Stuck…Now what? Ramble. Mindless. So? That’s ok. That’s the idea. A sunset captures our attention because it wanes. Our lives are waning but we only feel it when the moment also wanes. How does it work? Not sure. Living. If I wasn’t living where was I? Thoughts…waning, fading…disappearing. Late. Great day. Great moment. Happiness. Perfection. Now what? More of the same? Why not? The futility of capturing a moment. Impossible. Cannot do it justice. So close. So far. Discovery. Of something discovered millions of times in a million different moments. Waning moments. Years, lifetimes; fading moments. Brief lapses of time. No control. No rules. No guarantees. Fading under fatigue. But just for today. More tomorrow. And the next day if another day is given. Why not? Beauty bestowed. Blessed. A moment. Waning, fading…disappearing…no more…

© Copyright 2010 Steel Metro (steelmetro at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1671263-Waning