At the end of a terrible day I lay my head down and wait for sleep, knowing in the morning the world will be different.
My brain will rest from this trying day and start again anew tomorrow, after The Earth has spun enough to bring The Sun back.
I wonder if The Sun ever has a trying day, if she ever feels tired or beaten down; I wonder if even light itself can become exhausted and wish, if but for a moment, she could stop and sleep, and reset again anew.
She has never been so selfish to us, as to take a moment for herself; she has always stayed, steady and shining for her entire world. To feel worn and still have the strength to shed light on every surface seems like a beautiful existence, she will burn out eventually and join all the other stars long gone before her, but to have lived an existence so selfless and true, to have been light, and shared light and been remembered as the brightest, strongest star, seems to me to be simple perfection.
So now at the end of a terrible day I lay my head down and think about all the beauty I saw, all the laughter I heard, even though I’m worn and tired, I think about every smile I received in return of my smile; I think about how I am not perfect, but how perhaps I’m that much closer to The Sun.
To The Light.