Of Sunsets and Things

When the sun sets or rises, sometimes I imagine that the rich vibrant colors that paint the sky is really an expression of love that the sun has for the moon. Weird right? I know I'm kind of crazy. Why is it though that the sun is at it's most expressive, at it's best I suppose you could say is when it is greeting or bidding farewell to the night and the moon? One of the sad, bitter ironies of life though is that the sun can't ever really be with the moon, they're both eternally destined to stand silent watch over the earth in opposition of each other. How odd. I think that sunrises and sunsets are the only time when the two can watch over their ward together. I think thats why I love taking photos of sunrises and sunsets... but mostly sunsets because I'm not often up early enough to capture the night's departure and the sun's morning embrace before the moon slips away.

This is something that I've wondered about for years.  Why is it that when I look at something as spectacular as a sunset, often the thought comes to mind that it looks like a painting? The same can be said of forests, mountain ranges, waterfalls, the ocean, and medley of other things. I mean I suppose that it could be said that the Creator of all paints the sky in rich oranges and reds, mountains in deep purples and blues contrasted with white caps, and forests in dark greens and browns, but why do people say, "Wow it looks like a painting!" Shouldn't we say the opposite? But then I guess we wouldn't have an easy way of saying that the things God created are magnificent.

Why is it that in the dark we imagine that things are different than what they really are? Sometimes we say that evil creatures from unearthly places dwell in the dark places, sometimes we say that things that in the day are mundane and generally go unnoticed transform and become living creatures whether malicious or not is unimportant. Personally I think there is a beauty to the contrast between light and shadow at night. It gives the mundane the opportunity to become striking. All things have their moment of glory I suppose.

In the end I'm glad that That the sun loves the moon and that trees have the secret desire to step out of their ordinary role to become silent kings of shadow. It helps me sleep at night.