It’s setting. Leaving all forever in the dark.

All that happen today will be gone unless remember for the simple things. Clouds slowly covering the sky, blocking out the final goodbyes the sun has to give. Only leaving, the waters, with a slim ripple wave, of the glow from, the white orb.

Out in the distance, lies a building, with a tall tower candle flicker to see and speak of farewell of the fiery sun. Along of a lone boat, having no place to go, leaving those on the floater to rest there out in open ocean until that gloated sun comes back.

Though the warmest fades, cooling the sand into ice, it keeps the yellow hue of blurredness.

Enough to rest sit with peace, face wet in tears, as the sun goes, as does the meaning of life. Prays for it to come back, have been said, but when is there going to oddly be a time, when the sun finally gives up on all life.

When the land will forever be lost in darkness, where is the hope then? Oh, little candle within the tower of the seaport, keep aglow, for when the sun finally goes, keep that lasting glow, until nothing is left for others. By what, until the next day, it has to tick faster.

Faster for that, in fear of age, comes not close of the fear of never seeing that earnest, radiance, of silver disc.

Shields Lighthouse, c.1825 by Joseph Mallord William Turner

Painted in the year 1825

Location of when painted; unknown

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