In the Quiet of the Evening

The sun drips gold,

spilling over rooftops and trees,

fading into whispers of night.

I sit alone,

listening to the hum of the world

slowing down,

as if the earth itself

takes a breath,

pausing in its endless spin.

The sky stretches wide,

a canvas painted with light and shadow,

and somewhere between the stars and my skin,

I feel the weight of time

drift away—

like leaves in the wind,

like words never spoken.

In this moment,

there is no rush,

no past to chase,

no future to fear.

Only the stillness,

only the now,

and the soft pulse of my heart

echoing the rhythm of the quiet earth.

And here,

in the fading light,

I am enough.