The clarity of the sky as the last ray of the sun disappears over the horizon brings clarity in my mind. The questions asked, the struggles fought, all come into focus without the static that daylight causes. Were the answers there all along, and I just couldn't hear them, or was I just not ready for the answer, and time had to wait?
When I arrived at the courtyard, I was welcomed as though I was expected. I always felt that I landed on the floor as if dropped from the sky, in a fog, like I was hungover. In my mind, I got to my feet and brushed off my clothes, immediately sharing the message that I was commissioned to carry.
The reality is that my fragmented existence is not seen as pieces in other lands. Better for me, better for them, yeah, but I grow tired of holding that vessel together. I recognize that my special gift is taking a path that did not exist. I get down, dirty, and torn along the way. Is it good? I still don't know.
Nine years ago this month, I embarked on a quest to bring it all together. Sometimes I feel that I have accomplished a great deal. Other days, I feel like my foot slipped from its hold in the rockface, and I fell thousands of feet to the bottom.
As I lay there, the sky was a symphony of strange signs we can now see. There are visitors from other galaxies, and radio waves are sending signals that we do not understand. Neighboring planets are birthing moons by the hour, and yes, life did exist on Mars. I contemplate this advancement, and in comparison to all of creation, it does not even move the needle. The result, I feel small. I am moved by the fact that my voice can still be heard in the vastness of it all.
Soundless shadows grow, then disappear, allowing me to see everything in a way that I could not before. The great scapegoats of the day, like those shadows, disappear quietly, giving no fight as they are put away and into the place that they belong, nowhere.
I cannot lament all of the excuses of the past; they are shown to be nothing and not unique. "Mister, can you tell me, please, who I am? Do you think I stand out? Or am I just a face in the crowd?" I know the answer. Even the noise in my head cannot be used. I set the baggage on the path, not looking back, and stepping forward. Evening has earned its place today.
I never realized that Evening started on Tuesday afternoon. Sweet denial, you can be such a cunning host. You have stirred me up, and I have performed just as you wanted. You pulled the strings, and I have obeyed to a fault. It is a virus, and I have walked in its thoughts as if anyone cared. We all perform to some degree, always knowing we are nothing more than the person we feel we are while lying in bed at three o'clock in the morning during the most significant thunderstorm we have ever seen.
I guess I am most surprised by the wonder with which I welcome the evening. I have worked hard in futility to get here, and hopefully towards something worthwhile too. I don't want to go back, that much I know. I brace myself, getting up off the ground, and walk on the trail at sunset. Evening has certainly earned its place today. I am good with that.
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