I sat atop a South Korean mountain and watched the sun fall behind some stationary clouds. They were a fading gray, dark like smoke against the bold background, yet soft and streamlined, spanning my view from end to end as I gaze out over it's western slope. The sky was furious, painted mad in orange bordered in a yellow haze fading into the corners of the horizon. What I saw coming was to be a magnificent burst, an explosion in the west, as if the sky were set on fire and the mountains could but hold back mere portions of light as the beams reached out over every small corner of every peak to rain down into the valleys until the sun rested beyond the fall of that corner of earth. I watched and waited; my mind's eye depicted the submersion of the great light into the space beneath the clouds above the landscape. I waited with a finger to the trigger; one snap which could hold such a perfect moment forever. The rays had just began to reach beneath the overlaying clouds, and just as quickly yielded to them as the world below grew dim. The fire turned to smoke, and the sun fell into that smoke. Only a modest glimpse shown. A glimpse that washed out, like a candle in a dense fog. This is you and me.
