I don’t know why I’m writing this now, I shouldn’t be. I should be sound asleep. But I’m not. Oh well. Instead, I’m going to tell you about what happened when I got off work on my birthday.

When I left work I walked down a poorly lit utility tunnel. It smelled of smoke. Apparently the signs weren’t doing their job. They should probably be fired and replaced by a more effective means of discouraging smokers. Perhaps armed guards. But I digress. The long tunnel ended at a metal door with chipped paint. There is nothing exception about the door. It’s the standard issue ugly metal door. I’m sure you’ve seen it. I stepped outside, and began to walk to my car. The ground was black and hard. Not very good for walking on. I looked up to see where my car was. I saw it, and stopped in awe. The sun was setting. It was as if the gods had decided that this day was the day he would prove he was there. That today would be it, that today he would make a sunset so wondrous, that no one could deny divinity.

The dying star blazed golden red waves across the sky. A golden red that became a sea green, as revealed by the clouds, and blending to a perfect cyan at the other end of the world. A small flight of small birds danced before me, apparently lost in the rapture of their joy. Even the geese, on their eternal mission, seemed to slow, to gaze. As the sun set it shot a beam of solid sunshine straight into the sky, where it was lost to my view.

I could imagine a poet crying over that view, I nearly do just remembering. But when I looked around I only saw 1000 eyes, on 500 heads, watching 1000 feet. I wanted to shout. Tell them to look. But instead, I shuffled along with them to my car, and that is when I wept.