Yellow is the Sun, Green at Dusk It Becomes

Look at it… yellow as you have always known it, an undeniable truth, a light that falls effortlessly, resting on your shoulders like a warmth that never betrays. And yet, it does not sleep… it lingers at the edges, pulling behind it an invisible thread of fading light. Wait… dusk does not arrive as you imagine; it seeps through the folds of illumination, altering the architecture of things, turning the sky into a tangible thought, the horizon into open doors leading toward a green absence.

Do not speak now… silence expands, yet it is not without trace. The light withdraws slowly, leaving behind drowsy fingers that drench the air in a tremor of unfinished colors. And at the last edge of time, where nothing retains its original hue, the sun becomes green. Do not tell me you cannot see it… just linger a little longer in your gaze. Read the light as one reads the first word in the book of the universe, and you will hear it speaking to you. The sun moves on… but the color remains. Not in the sky, but in your eyes, in the memory that never fades, in the secret you have kept warm pulsing, shifting, alive.

~Firas Alwaily

    Michigan