Hues of the sky

The sky in the morning, stirring from slumber, as the golden rays of the sun, like delicate fingers, push and prod, parting the shroud of darkness, to emerge like a new born baby, from its deep recess.

Though reluctant the day may be, the sun coaxing it along,first all pink like a blushing bride, then turning a yellow , the sky greets the rising sun.

Morning colours so beautiful, the sky a freshly washed blue. When you spy it through the trees, you can well imagine it’s a green.

But with each passing moment, the climbing sun, turns the sky to a brilliant, blazing white.By noon the mighty orb of light, is a powerful force to reckon with. The heat and the shining particles, play tricks on the naked eye.

Then there are days, when in exasperation, displeased at the atrocities beneath, he hides behind those ominous clouds, turning the sky a dark grey, a gloomy light for us to contend with.

Come evening and it’s the setting sun. The fiery ball begins his descent. Seemingly downcast for he must leave, the sky he reigned awhile. Donning his robe of red and gold, he turns the sky a flaming orange.

With a final display of tumultuous colour, in an effort to leave his imprint, he changes the sky to a deep purple. Then fading he disappears from sight, sinking below the horizon, to rise over another land, in another sky.

The sky above in his wake, lost and bereft of colour, gropes in the dim twilight, until the arrival of the shining moon, a little part of the sun, that he left behind for us.

As we stand, not very far from the sunset of our lives, we can take comfort in knowing, that like the sun, when we leave here, we will rise in another realm and a small part of us will remain, to be remembered by.

Until then let’s lead our lives, filled with a myriad of colours. Listening to that urgent inner voice, embracing our destiny and not having to make choices.