I don't believe that the course of anyone's lifetime has ever been as unerring as that of the rising and setting sun, but I know many lives that have been just as inspiring.

Oh, the wondrous places through which I wander:woodlands, meadows, and green hillsides yonder.I hike over mossy, meandering paths.Dead branches serve nicely as walking staffs.The sunset paints scenery crimson and gold.Oh, wondrous nature dyed in colors bold.

The blue of daylightfades and chills as the sun sinksbeneath clouds of fire.

There are those who fear the sunset, worried they will never see light again. There are those who ignore the sunrise, squandering dawn, believing they will never run out of daylight. And then there are those who have learned to live in the sun's warmth, gauging time by its positions, thankful at night that the day happened. Be aware of time. Use it wisely. Be thankful for the light allotted.

The sun, rising and setting in splendid colors, never grows tired of its admirers―much like a lady, aglow with grace, never grows tired of chivalrous acts or pretty flowers.

It seems there is more interest in sunsets than sunrises. Perhaps because innately we fear the dark.

Time and again the sun sets like a bedimming curtain before my eyes, taking with it all illumination, warmth, and color.  I am overwhelmed by night and the monsters that lurk in shadows of despair.  But alas, stars twinkle from afar, shedding the tiniest rays of lighted hope.  I am reminded that the sun also rises and that morning's glory shall restore beauty to my world.  The realization of this dream is only a matter of waiting out the dreary night.  So, I shall persevere.

Perfection is a paradigm meant to keep us striving and learning and growing. Like a wondrous sunset, perfection may be beyond our reach, but it is within our view and well worth seeking after.

The night creeps in by subtle degrees while a show of fierce colors attracts and distracts me. I look up, suddenly aware of remote lights scattered overhead. I gasp as the last streak of fire dies on the horizon, and I comprehend it all too late. That crafty, dark night has swallowed my world whole.