Waves

A warm summer evening. A man sits on the grass and rests his back on the ragged surface of a pine tree trunk. He is lost in thought. The evening wears on slowly as he takes the occasional look at the sun setting behind a distant range of mountains. The scene pleases him. It mellows his mood. Cycles, boundaries, points of no return, deadlines. They all come in waves that travel along the ocean of time, that incomprehensible continuum. In the briefest final lapse the sun goes down behind the furthest mountain. He knows that there will come a time when the last rays of the sun will actually be the last rays of the sun.