Stillness at the Crown

The sun, a molten eye directly overhead, no longer a traveler on the horizon's rim, but a sovereign, absolute. Shadows shrink to almost nothing, hiding beneath the very things that cast them, a brief surrender of definition, a world momentarily flattened, stripped of its usual depth and perspective. The air hangs thick and still, as if holding its breath under the weight of that intense gaze. Sounds seem muted, absorbed by the sheer brilliance. It is a point of culmination, the apex of ascent, a moment where striving ceases, where all potential energy seems momentarily suspended before the inevitable descent begins. We look up, perhaps shielding our eyes, aware of this fleeting dominion, this stark clarity that reveals without embellishment. No soft edges now, no lingering twilight, only the pure, unwavering presence. It makes one consider the peaks in our own lives, those moments of feeling utterly present, of standing in the full glare of achievement or understanding, knowing that even this intensity must eventually soften, that the journey continues, arcing towards another horizon. The zenith: a stark reminder of the present's power, and the quiet turning that follows every high point. A breathless pause before the long exhale of afternoon. ©bfa042825