I love to sit at a high place, a high place in the open air, high enough to have nothing obstruct my view of the setting sun. The sun, red like a blood shot eye, retiring beneath the horizon is my favorite nature's picture. Often there are birds in their thousands swarming from one to another end of the sky. Everything else is still, like death, and the scene speaks of an end, the end of daylight and daytime. I love the scene, I love the shadow that is stretched behind me, that rises with me, walks with me, talks with me with a voice lost in mine, that is with me so long as there is light to cast it; only light can cast a shadow off an obstacle, and only illumination can make an impact in the face of bulwarks. We do or get undone by what we know or do not know. So, we rise in the dawn of our lives, and strive to cast a shadow off the golden morning sun, to make impact upon society, to leave legacies, shadows upon homes, upon institutions, upon literature, and upon religion. We cast shadows of mountains upon valleys, shadows of oars upon silent seas, shadows of kings upon subjects and masters upon slaves.
We rush to meet up with dusk, when we have lost strength from going around and casting shadows along our paths. Of course the sun will certainly set on our time here. And everyone wants to sit on some place very high to watch his sun set, to take a selfie with nature's favorite picture, and to cast a long shadow downhill upon which climbers will take shade. We shall all die someday, but while we live, while we climb uphill, I enjoy watching the sunset. At evening it will set again and I won't watch alone.