July 20, 2010
By dalseman BRONZE, Wuhan, Other
dalseman BRONZE, Wuhan, Other
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

'In the end we'd be laughing
Watching the Sunset
Fade to black, show the names
Play the happy song'
This is a piece of lyrics I've chosen more for myself, my life and soul, than for anyone else. People may look into its meaning, over-sensitive and over-insensitive people would gape at its different wonders.
But for me, it's the final Sunset.

I gazed out of the mini forest that lay spread out of my window. The sky is a hazy gray, yet traces of the descending sun remains.
It's not the glorious red and gold as painted in the pictures. It's simply solemn and melancholic, as if the sun itself has wore shades that covered its brightness
The clock read 6:18. In a few hours, the sun would drown beneath the distant horizon.

It's funny, how every step could be our last.
During that most extraordinary morn of expected darkness, that Wednesday when the sun was shadowed, we stood outside facing the heavens together. The moon has done its trick.
Why's it called the SOLAR eclipse when the moon's the hero?

Darkness crept over us. Cold winds blew in the area, for the first time in two weeks of blistering heat. We stopped what we were doing. We even tried to stand together, facing the trace of light that was about to fade.
Five minutes. Five minutes of bright daylight that was said to be dark as night.

But no, it's not at all like the peace of night. It was the color of dark clouds brewing a storm, fleeing a fire, or else telling of the blast of a nuclear bomb.
And it was cold, shiverish cold. Not on the outside, but from deep within.

I have no idea, as I walk silently in the shadows, if the next step would take me just a bit too far from the last.

The dusk is alive. Lighted by rays of light refusing to succumb, strengthened by the power of the night. The trees, old or young, cast shadows upon the ground, hiding anything or anyone that may be nocturnal enough to abide by its shadows.
But hidden from the trees' width, they escape my eyes, until, expectedly or unexpectedly, I walk directly into them.
And then it would be too late.

We have not the slightest idea what would happen at the next moment. Maybe a heart attack. Maybe a whirl of thunderstorm. Maybe a sudden blast that would end it all.
And maybe the next step we take, the next molecule of air we breathe in, the next rock that we trod on, would be the one and final one to ever feel our living bodies again.

The world is slowly turning to an end. The sun has seen it, and has hidden its face. Soon all would be dark.
The earth had once formed out of nothingless. Water, air, life...Everything appeared gradually, as if a slight shift in pace would destroy them all.
It's ironic how sudden everything could disappear.

A string of music seem to hang high above, mourning for those who could not live to see the sun ever again.
One of these days, the quiet stars popping into the darkness one by one, would do the same for the planet that once existed, and shone in its glory.

The sun has gone down.
Rays of light vanishes into nothingness.
Darkness envelopes the beings on their guard, standing next to the numbing chillness that has crept soundlessly among them.
Fade to black.
We have gone far enough. Do we have to go just a bit further?
Let's just pray that, one of these days, some of these people would wake up with a mind clear of all this haze.
Then one more. More...

Yet a single conscious being waking to sorrow, resentment, anger...It would rip it all apart.

We cannot avoid disappearing, like the sun, into total oblivion, nothingness.
Then why do we stand, lone figures, in the night?

The Sun would sleep and never again wake, someday.
Do we even want to avoid that? What does the end mean, for those of us who have no taste of the beginning?
The creator of the world, if any, would suffer another failed experiment.
What if earth, everything, is just another test, another Biosphere 2, to find out how Nature can sustain herself?
It has failed, miserably.

Darkness blinds my eyes.
How do I hold on if there is nothing to hold?
Somehow, in a place where for some the Sun has just risen, a small group of people, maybe, has awoken.
Maybe. Can't count on it.
Even if we can, who would listen?
People see without seeing the true nature. They hear without hearing the words to the music. They touch without feeling the unstableness of everything around them.
And when it collapses, it would be all too late.

It has gone too far. The sun we see slipping through our eyelids, will never again return.
And what does it matter if the entire human race wakes this instant?
We couldn't stop the end from coming, only slow it. So why do we slow it anyway? Letting our children and grandchildren face the fear and loss we created and preserved for them?
Hand in hand, we look into the dark sky. Peace lay there, somewhere.

The Sun has already gone.
But in our hearts, the Sunset would grip and torture us, fill up with feelings of agony and despair, hopelessness, loneliness, and fear, till we feel no more.

'In the end we'd be laughing
Watching the Sunset
Fade to black, show the names
Play the happy song'

This is the end. We're not laughing, not even smiling. Just blankly staring into the oblivion that is about to be our identity.
We face the setting sun, feeling the Sun die within us, knowing this Sun we see would be our last. Whether it or us would perish first, it doesn't matter.
Light faded to darkness. Shadows spelt out names, names that we once loved, now forgotten, deeply lost within our hearts full of desires. Now the memories come back, and we fear.
Music is still vibrating. Yet it seems to drift further away. It was meant to be a happy song, originally, but now, as the lyrics planted itself among these fearful creatures awaiting their self-brought destruction, the words changed nature.
"I believe for you and me, the Sun would shine one day"
Believing is nothing to being. Belief is meaningless, hollow, empty. One day...One day is the one and only day, that would never ever come.

The Sun has set.

This is the Final Sunset. We suffer in the weight of it, in the knowledge that soon, too soon,
We would suffer no more.

The author's comments:
I was walking through the dark woods near our house one night when the idea for this came into my mind. I know the whole idea's so scattered. I can't help it-Just bear with me.

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