Beyond Twilight.

Twilight arrived before I realized the day was ending. The light didn’t vanish all at once; it thinned, softened, and shifted into something quieter. I stood there watching the sky change, and it struck me how familiar the moment felt. Not because of the colors, but because of the slowing. The steadiness. The sense that something was closing without drama or regret.

It reminded me of the way maturity approaches - not as a sudden revelation, but as a gradual dimming of certain impulses and a brightening of others. A transition you only notice when the moment arrives, and you pause long enough to see it.

My own story begins a new chapter in that pause, in that in‑between hour where the world is neither young nor old, when I am neither young nor old, but something honest in the in-between.

I begin to see myself in the Twilight. As that pause between my heart and its beats. Like a sky caught in the act of reminiscing.

It is the hour when light forgets its designation, and darkness blushes at the edge of knowing.

Clouds drift like half-formed thoughts, painted in burnished gold and violet hues, while the horizon folds itself into a half-secret it cannot keep long hidden.

Birdsong lingers, then gently fades, and the wind, finally free - begins to speak in the language of thresholds - soft, recursive, unresolved.

Twilight announces its arrival.

It lingers.

Never ending.

And It transforms.

Into that gentle glow which comes in both the evening (dusk) and the morning (dawn).

When the sun hides below the horizon - its light still illuminating the sky

It is TWILIGHT - before sunrise and after sunset

I am become the metaphor - existing between the twilight of my dusk and my dawn - my morning and my evening colliding.

I feel the Twilight dawning in my bones...it brings contradictions to a soul wrapped in contemplation of its place - its time...its tiny universal moments of existence

A soul pondering its questionable, miniscule frailty in the immense and grand scheme of life.

For, with it comes a half-beautiful, half-terrifying foreboding sixth-sense of premonitions.

It is a beautifully cold world...half-bright, with a slow, maleficent half-dark approach of destiny looming amidst the magnificence of the serene day,

a baleful presentiment of malevolence follows in its wake.

But the soft morning glow reflects the sun's rays - A Serene gentle warmth.

🌅 I breathe.

The malleable morning glow leans into the world, a quiet rush of gold unfolding across the sky.

Sun‑rays drift - whispered vows, touching rooftops,

warming the pulse of this waking earth.

In this tender silence, light becomes a blessing -

a gentle warmth

that teaches even shadows

how to soften.

Serene... Gentle... Warm...

And then -

as the tender morning glow settles into my skin,

I feel the twilight bones responding...accepting,

a new and strange inversion of light

that rises from within

instead of falling from the sky.

It is half-beautiful,

like the solemn quiet before a blessing,

and yet, half-terrifying...

like a door opening

to a room I’ve walked through in dreams

but never dared to enter awake.

A foreboding sixth-sense stirs -

never loud, never cruel,

just that quiet pressure

within the soul,

as if the future is leaning close

to whisper something

I’m not sure I’m ready to hear.

Yet the warmth remains,

steady as breathing,

reminding me that even premonitions

carry their own kind of light -

the kind that teaches you

how to walk forward

with your eyes open

and your spirit listening.

And, all too soon, it will be your turn to begin to listen.