Where Love Heals

twi-light

• the period between daylight and darkness

Life has an eternal presence of twilight. Never light, nor dark. Happy and sad. A sense of being between two extreqmes. Always in the middle.

There is a quiet battle every evening as the sun begins its descent beyond the horizon. Day refuses to surrender, while night slowly reaches across the sky, claiming piece by piece what the sun can no longer hold.

And in that brief, beautiful space between endings and beginnings, the sky becomes a canvas.

Colors born from the entire spectrum spill across the horizon. Clouds wander through the fading light, their edges glowing as though the heavens themselves have caught fire. Across the landscape, silhouettes stand in quiet reverence, gathering fragments of the dying sun and reflecting them back into the world. And yet, the most beautiful thing about twilight may be that it will never happen quite this way again.

The clouds will never gather in the same places. The colors will never bleed together in quite the same hues. The light will never touch the earth in quite the same way. Even the eyes that witness it may never see it with the same heart twice.

Twilight is nature’s quiet reminder that beauty does not need permanence to be profound. Perhaps that is why I love it so much.

Twilight is who I love. Twilight is how I love. Twilight is my confusion, my comfort, and my anguish.

It is my indecision.

My uncertainty.

My longing.

It is the space I have learned to inhabit

the place between what was and what might be, between holding on and letting go, between the things I know and the things I cannot name.

I love twilight. It is, without question, my favorite time of day.

But sometimes, I find myself wishing the stars would simply come out already.

Because there is something exhausting about living between worlds.

Some things are meant to exist only for a moment. To arrive quietly, take our breath away, and disappear into the darkness, leaving behind nothing but the ache of having witnessed something beautiful.

Some endings are not losses.

Some are invitations.

Every twilight is a masterpiece.

And perhaps that is the beauty, and the gift, of it all.

The sky does not end when the light fades.

And neither will I. 

I will make room for the stars. 

Jacque Michele