The Time of Day Has Lots to Say

May the gleam of the sun’s light be forever within me; throughout the dark nights, during days packed with rain, and in the mornings when clouds obscure the blushing sky.

The sun is my mentor. Within me, the sun awakens a vividness which otherwise hibernates in deep crevices of my mind. Almost as if appreciation to detail is the core of a vast iceberg that rests dormant until a ray of sunlight hits the iceberg’s surface, and with the flowing water oozes out the sweetest honey. My eyes feast upon a world engulfed in sunlight, flickering from detail to detail, trying to take in every illuminated particle, every indent in a wall that become visible as a distortion in the light. Overwhelmed by sensation, I am able to appreciate the world that accepts me.

I saw the sun today, but if I do not see the sun, I know that it is still there. A whole life forms from the mere fact of knowing, of knowing that the sun is there somewhere up in the sky. The image of it, of the sun, in my mind is enough to keep me warm at night, it's heat crawls through my body as I lie in bed.

Love in Question

Is this a love to the sun directly, regardless of anything that it does for me, or is it for the heat that it generates?

Once the sun burns away will I continue loving it, or will I begin to resent it for no longer serving me?

I will resent it. How could it betray me like that! After all the gratefulness, all the love, all the appreciation I dedicated to it...

But, but... Were my acts proportionate to what the sun did for me? All I gave the sun in return for its warmth were cold words of gratitude, they could not possibly amount to that which I got in return. It is I who should be to blame then, the sun run out of fuel because it could no longer tolerate the feeble payment it was receiving for its work.

But, but... Why did it not tell me that what I was giving it was not enough? Why did it silently keep on giving to the point of exhaustion. In this sense, the sun is so alike to humans, humans who work away their short lives without once speaking up that they want to go and dive into the ocean and touch the golden sand and listen to the rustle of the trees. Maybe the sun learnt from us, it took this trait of toleration of its condition from human nature and did not know any better than to keep on giving without expecting anything in return.

The sun was cold, and it was getting colder and colder, until it finally gave away its last dose of warmth.

After the Sun

Now the days are shrouded in darkness that verges on prayer.

There are no indications marking a start or an end, the beginning of a new day is decided independently of phenomenon like day and night.

But it is so cold.

And it will remain like this until humans stop begging for the sun to return and learn that they also have a warmth within themselves that, unlike the sun’s heat, is infinite.

Now the days are shrouded in darkness that verges on prayer which has no soul to it because humans have forgotten how to use words, and it is funny because if they were to remember how language works they would realise that the sun is still there! The darkness that they perceive is artificial, they run around engulfed in their own self-made problems, screaming that the end of the world is coming. And these screams, seeped in passion and genuine belief, are more prayer than those bland words that they absentmindedly whisper before bed.

How long can this go on for?

What time is it?

If the time of day used to have a lot to say, like during breakfast I would animate to you my dreams from the night, and when the clock hit one in the afternoon I was sure to expect to hear the buzz of my neighbour’s alarm clock going on because they were the nocturnal type.

Now, that there is no time nor day, there is nothing for the world to say. It can only wait, and listen keenly in anticipation of a reply to all that it told us over the span of the many years that it kept on telling.

All That Remains is Actually so Much

Continue. Because no matter how far you go ahead, you will always come back, do not think of a destination, but follow the light of the sun, and if you do not see the light, follow the sensation of its warmth.

There is no ‘end of the world’ because the world was not made for us, humans, nor was it made for the sun or anything else that you or I can name. In fact, you and I, the sun and everything else that you and I can name form a part of the world, a world that keeps on forming with no end. So, it is rather disrespectful to attach the world to us, humans, and equate the world’s end with the end of humanity.

I began my day by seeing the sun, a sun that was not actually there, instead a heavy rain assaulted the ground, but by ‘the sun’ I meant something else.

Maybe I meant God.

Maybe I need to be more direct.

Maybe I am still learning how to use words in a way that they justify all that I keep within myself.

Yes, I am learning, and by admitting this I can also feel that I still have so much more to learn, not only by taking but also by giving because giving is also a form of learning.