The Evening Sky

The evening sky just before the sunset, is beautiful,

Aloof, almost arrogant, like Jane Austen’s Mr Darcy,

Seemingly quiet, detached,

 In the evening frenzy of light and shadows, of birds frolicking about

 And their long flight home,

It stands still.

Even as the breeze gently romances the night to shed its inhibitions,

It moves not an inch,

In the unsettling stillness that can only be called composure,

It epitomizes the longing of our hearts, to be still,

To be at rest,

To be that immovable backdrop, which allows the Sun’s play and the moon’s many moods,

A serene sky of many shades, of which detachment is the most colorful tone.

The Song of the Sufi Masroof