I've always yearned to taste the golden and shimmering sunlight, dripping steadily down the sides of my cheeks. I’ve licked my lips in anticipation, and with intense imagery I've found myself basking in the warm glow, enveloped by a soft blanket of light, savoring this tantalizing prospect. Each day I would wake and press my palm against the cool, hard glass of my bedroom window and gaze at the bright yellow blaze in the sky, the light dancing in my eyes. And as I watch the sun one last time, a melancholy prospect, I fully appreciate the sight. The orange rays filter through the ridge in the distance, the dusk permeating the entirety of the valley below and I hardly dare to breathe. For so long I've concentrated on the sun rising. Never had I given much thought to how it sets in the heat of the day. And so I’d lived my life watching the sun rise and die, much like my short time spent in existence. I knew that each day I would rise, neither focusing nor caring on those last dying rays. I could live with the knowledge that someday I would have to die. In fact, I knew fully well of this imminence.
I just didn't think it would be so soon.