How strong is the power of the Western Sky? Powerful enough to make my eyes check all the mirrors, then my speed, then the shoulder…until they find a safe place. A place where I can let go of my responsibilities as a driver, and accept the freedom of Sun Worship once again.
Worshiping a God who gives me this image upon which to gaze is the only choice my psyche has; it is hypnotic-esque. The horizon woos my spirit into a slumber by showing me the soft grey blanket of cloudy mist she is slipping over the End of the Day. She tugs at the blanket, creating fingers stretched so that they almost touch together the top and bottom of my view.
“I’m tucking in the Day,” she whispers. “Are you safe? Nice and tight in within the loving force of the Life you lived today? Are you ready to bid my Sun farewell and welcome Twilight?”
It’s not really a series of questions from the Horizon to me as it is the Final Call. “Last round of the daylight, soak it in while you can!”
The Horizon’s voice is gentle, soothing, reassuring.
Grateful once again…no, grateful forever…I breathed out the last breaths of day, and inhaled the first breaths of twilight. Then I got back into my car and drove home through the twilights mists until I reached my driveway. By the time my tires turned toward the house, Twilight was in full force and the Horizon was sleeping. Dreaming. Dreaming as she rotated around Mother Earth until she met Oklahoma once again on Sunday morning.