AT DAYS END (2022.08.22) The setting sun creates fire in the sky. Flaming yellow, orange and red. Filling heaven's dome on the westward rim. A quiet slow burning… that if you allow it… will slow down time, transforming burning consumption into transfixed wonderment, as the day is calmly destroyed in brilliant visibly-changing color. Birds fly to their nests creatures burrow in their dens and other resting spaces. And I, heart-harnessed to Phaethon's Chariot as it recedes over the horizon, am humbled by the beauty. My eyelids, growing heavy with the fading light, also find solace and rest. An ending for some. A beginning for others. The chirping of birds gives way to the chirping of crickets and lightning bugs twinkle at twilight in the shadow of darkness like stars on the wing that children can chase and catch with their hands then marvel at the magic within their grasp. Letting go to see the stars take flight. Dreamtime has come again. I wrote this poem while listening to this music and watching the sun set. https://youtu.be/O41y9vuVT3s Best if not played to loud and even better if reading the poem out loud (slowly with a sense of longing and wonder) while the music is playing.