At the End of the Day

There is something so precious about the end of the day. I can be so impatient for the other parts. In my waking I grumble and tangle in my bedsheets and swat away my matted hair. In the mid-day I eat my leafy greens at my desk and wonder what it looks like outside. My office is a cell block that I have decorated nicely. All the creature comforts arranged in the hopes of convincing myself that I belong to larger landscapes and vast city piazzas - I just happen to be here right now. It’s a poor trick of the mind. Smoke and mirrors - sleight of hand to get me to go to work and do the things I have to do.

But oh,

Here,

At the end of the day I do not wish it away.

I pray ardently and hold my hands up to the light. I cup the orange golden ball of the sun in my palms and ask it to stay for just a bit longer.

I could’ve done it better.

All of it.

I could have shown up and looked around and cared more and tried more and wrote my stories and sang boldly and looked into the eyes of the children and told them that they are going to be alright.

I wish someone would tell me that too. I wish someone would hold me like I now hold the sun and ask me to stay and burn bright a bit longer.

But the sun sinks heavy

and I give up the fight.

The inevitable happens and in the last moments the eternal engine of fire retreats in a final curtain call and dips into the tree lined horizon.

…and I miss it already.

I miss it already.

I miss it already.

Perhaps I am not looking for a miracle to happen.

Perhaps this is as much of a miracle as there ever will be.

Here.

In my humanity and my lawn chair pointed to the West. There are things that are true now that I cannot see yet. Things beyond the veil. Like planets hiding in plain view. The sun, though it has already escaped is still hiding them in its remembered light.

Mercury.

Venus.

Saturn and all her rings.

Right in front of me.

They are all right there.

Held within the Infinite Grace of Eternity I am who I need to be right now.

Perhaps this is enough.

You can join me here too if you want. We can stand shoulder to shoulder and speak what we want.

I will listen.

I promise.

I will listen to you if you listen to me.

In whispered hopes.

We will conquer the horizon yet.

Perhaps she will teach us something new tomorrow.

When the sun greets us in the dark purple blue of a bird call morning we will remember who we are; as dear old friends that come back from a distance.

There.

There you are.

Thank you for coming back.