I just watched the sun set

And now I remember colors and light.

As I rotated slowly backward, the sky was an alive and burning yellow - the yellow threw itself into orange, an orange that gave way to mild blues and pinks. When I looked straight up, there swayed regal purple and sorrowful blue. Looking into the sky like that is like looking into a deep pool of water; it swirls and changes with new currents, and flows one color into another.

I sat still. In the grass, only interrupted by a few sleepy birds, I sat still. Oh, how long it's been since I've been that still for that long. Finally I rose and looked up, only to see the mirror of the sun. I stood still. The moon, not quite full, was already throwing its share of color on the darkening sky. She was veiled by a thin dress of cloud, and, like her sire, surrounded by ribbons of blue and purple.

I can't help but think of what MacDonald said through Anodos in Phantastes: "The moon, which is the lovelier memory or reflex of the down-gone sun, the joyous day seen in the faint mirror of the brooding night..." and, "the enchantress moon...with her pale eye...sank into my soul..."

And now I remember colors and light.