Sunset Trip

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A co-worker was telling of his time in Los Angeles and the sunsets he saw there daily. It might be a little verbose, but I like it.

     There comes a time each day when the disk of the Sun appears to touch the horizon out at the distant edge of the sea. In just over a minute, it will slide wider along the line of the horizon to the maximum width of the sphere and then diminish into the ocean to dip below the rim of the world. But in that minute, time slows and the dream of the future and what tomorrow brings grabs hold of the mind and sets out on a journey, with the dreamer in its wake.
     Perhaps a flight to prosperity as the imagination of what could be is the easiest to reach. There is always the hope that the necessary steps will be walked or run to that goal of everlasting serenity and happiness. That special place that only you know for certain and that no one would ever understand except to know that they, too, have a special place of their own that they long to reach.
     A melancholy trip to a past place to revisit decisions long regretted or else accepted. You wonder what might have been, for better or worse. Each day required a choice and in the end you hope, again hope, that the betters and the worses balance each other out and it becomes clear that the possibility exists that you are just where you were meant to be.
     You come back to the now and wonder what its all for. Why imagine when by the time it comes to the end, you are what destiny or fate said you must be?
     A sudden change in light and temperature, slight but noticeable, reminds you that the Sun has crossed the line of the horizon and dipped below leaving behind a bruised twilight that settles, routinely, into a bejeweled darkness, dazzled by the diamond stars in the heavens.
     The possibilities now seem endless and you consider that fate and destiny are what you make of it. The choices became you and you are the result of the path you trod, not the blueprint you were drawn to follow.
     Imagine.
     For without that capacity there is emptiness. A hollow glass shell with no contour, no color, no depth and no dimension. Out there, amid the diamonds in the sky, are the places where imagination lives. Go there, visit and bring back something to hold high and loudly proclaim “I have been there!”
     When they ask “Where?”, point to your star and tell them, “To my future. A future that I and my imagination will build. A place of wonder and satisfaction.”
     Time begins to move again the way time does. You breathe and think, “How silly, to consider such things. I am mortal and I will do what I have ever done. And then I will die.”
     You will be back tomorrow and watch the Sun set into the horizon, again. The ocean will swallow up the crimson and gold glowing disk until it is gone for another journey.
     There is hope, again hope, that just maybe you will be a little closer to believing that one day you will do what you have never done. Then you will cease to be mortal and then you will never die.

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