Moment's Masterpiece

The sky, a sudden canvas, brushed with hues that have no names. Not quite orange, not fully rose, but a melting, incandescent blend, as if a thousand unspoken wishes bled into the clouds. Ephemeral. Here for a heartbeat, a drawn breath, then subtly shifting, surrendering to the slow, inevitable descent. We pause, caught in its fiery gaze, a primal awe stirring within. This daily miracle, so casually offered, yet so breathtaking in its transience. Do we truly see it? Or just glance, preoccupied, as another masterpiece dissolves? Each moment a shade we cannot hold, a gradient shifting before our eyes. The gold bleeds into apricot, apricot softens to a bruised plum, plum deepens to a quiet violet, and then…gone. Where does it go, this vibrant artistry? Does it linger in the memory of the clouds? Or seep into the waiting darkness, a promise of a dawn unseen? It teaches us something, this fleeting beauty. About the preciousness of now. About the grace of letting go. About the poignant ache of what cannot last. A reminder that even the most spectacular moments are whispers, not shouts. Fleeting glimpses of a grandeur just beyond our grasp. And as the last sliver dips below the horizon, leaving behind a sky washed clean, we are left with the echo of color, a silent question hanging in the air: Did we truly see it? Did we truly feel it, this ephemeral, breathtaking goodbye? ©bfa051225