sometimes i just stand on the edge of the terrace and try to hold the sky in my eyes...the evening sky dressed in sublime colours of beauty, purity and poignance....the setting sun on one side and the moon waiting at the door expecting a permission to enter...at this point...and this point alone...i think the sky gets to feel it's own indentity...just itself and all it's colours....not the holder of night neither the bearer of the day...just the sky....like any person would feel after he acquires his long-lost self, after he kills all the thoughts of abnegation and attachment, after he decides to quit being someone he is not intended to be....the sky stands thus...and in it's shelter stand the moon, the stars and the night...awaiting their turn....the sky picks them up....and lets them run over...to gather another day and another morning....
maybe that is the reason all of us love the evening sky....in it's emancipation (even though for a short while)...we see the purpose of our existence....
