Disappearance

Disappearance

 

What happens when the sun sets? Does the sky fade into a black, sparse, velvety covering, speckled in the dust of faraway stars, suns? Our star has a name, and somehow it feels inadequate, small, hapless. It is, nevertheless, the same star around which both planet Earth and my home planet orbit.

 


 

Reliably, the sun sets every day, drops below the farthest horizon and lights the atmosphere in flames of a final bow as it departs from where I can see it now, around the rest of the rock it illuminates with its presence. The sun, its beautiful, fat face seems to be a reasonably fair entity in and to the minds of we mere peons.

 


 

It glistens; the horizon does, as the glare of a star’s bright existence imparts itself upon everything within its path whether or not the thing being lit desires the light or not. Imagine if the world (or the people living within it) possessed this sort of domineering power. What then would that sort of life and living reveal about people at large?

 


 

A stark line, expanding both toward the right and left, in perpetuity, far and away beyond what the naked eye can see. Brash, harsh, the horizon cuts the sky from the land, suggesting the vast inequality between the two entities attempting to live harmoniously, if not symbiotically. Who knows. Does the planet feel? Does it hold a preference? Does it want something other than what it has and is?

 


 

The distortion is palpable. She flips the orb over and around in her hands; nothing changes. The image within the orb, refracted, flips the world upside down, but within the orb itself, there “up” and “down” are not distinguished. She spins the thing on its x-axis. If light traveled a bit slower, perhaps, she could see it. She turns the thing over its y. Again, either her brain is too slow or too fast, and light, also, is too fast or too slow.

 


[same prompt 5X @2MIN ea]