A big black curtain descending,
aggressively indicating "The End",
while the sun rages in fiery defense
trying to beam as long as possible,
a star, reluctantly taking a last bow.
Maybe it's because I've seen the night
in me, falling, snuffing out the light
of joy, or because some nights are so dark
with suffering, they seem eternal.
Or maybe, there's a metaphor
in predictable repetition
of light and darkness,
life and death.
Perhaps the sunset is teaching me
that there's no day without night,
and that somehow,
this is beauty.
(For Poets United.)