The longest sunset pours over the world’s edges like a waterfall.
The horizon tries in vain to wrap its golden-yellow arms around every inch of the globe, dipping its hands in as many oceans and running its hands along the sides of as many mountains as it can reach. Even on this day, the other side of the mountain remains out of reach and the ocean only gives up some of its depths to horizon hands.
The shadows lengthen under the spectrum sunset in contradiction.
The shadows pace further from their homes on that day than on any other, their feet borne beyond the safety of their usual haunts, as if taunting the sunset at its inability to destroy the darkness. Even the shortest, the weakest, the brightest of nights is announced by the darkest of shadows. While the ground melts into nothingness, the sky is on fire.
Look up at the fire as though there is nothing else – to know you’re alive.
There is no contradiction more stark than time, which points its arrow along a single axis, bearing us, helpless, into the future while its timelines are mired with multitudes, contradictions, fateful encounters and chance happenings that abandon axes all together, operating in the vast expanse between coherence and truth.
How can I explain time without explaining its in-explicability? Time, in all its linearity, constantly rewrites itself, for in each moment, we overwrite the truths of the past with the truths of the present, re-crafting the world in our memory into something inexplicably new.
Memory knows nothing of the past. It is an invention of the present, a clever liar, a wraith passing by our window in the dead of night, bringing beautiful falsehoods disguised in the veil of truth, truths that smile at us with familiar faces we have never seen before.
We look backward to look forward, our necks bending to the past, straining against the moment, our eyes inventing the images that we will share with our children when we have finally shaped them into truths.