The Painter and the Sunset

My Fiction

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©copyright 1999* _MW_ All Rights Reserved

All original material has been Copyrighted and may not be published copied or duplicated in any media except by Michael Williams holder of the copyrights.

The Painter and the Sunset

"What a nice sunrise," the man said to himself. He has seen many before but there was something special, almost tangible about its beauty. The tinges of red, sharp around the cloud edges, cutting the orange-yellow sun in thirds. A glow of yellow surrounded by the sky. The backdrop of azure fading down the prism to a deep violet. "It may not be the most spectacular sunrise but I must paint it."

Lifting his brush he grazes the canvas, leaving colors behind. Immortalizing the sunrise. Something that will never change. To be looked upon in awe. A simplistic beauty, it will conjure infinite dreams. Remembrance of love, of a women. Capable of bringing so much to life.

A voice comes from the sun. "Why do you paint me?" The artist explains that he has found a beauty in her and wishes to share it with the infinite. He can not explain the beauty, the attraction, except that it is not too intimidating, almost excepting him. He feels it is tangible, creating a memory that is a part of him. " You lift me, give me a distraction. I have fallen in love with your image and what you bring out in me as well as the sky around you.

"I am not here for you. My beauty is merely a consequence of my existence, of your perception. Certainly there is nothing tangible in that." She has started to lift in the sky, moving away from me. Leaving that beauty to memory.

As the sky shifts, the painter states his case. "I merely meant that you were approachable. That you are pleasant to look without a fear of reprisal. Pleasant to admire. Whether you have intended it is not a factor for my perceptions have been made." The sunrise fades to blue, the sun continues to drift away. He continues. "Your beauty has created something in me. It most assuredly is good. It has set m heart and mind in motion."

"I am more than beauty." Says the sunrise in disgust "I understand this, but why is it so repulsive that find you as I do. Does it not bring you pleasure knowing that you can cause feelings of love and happiness in me by your presence."

"I do not know what brings me pleasure except that I would prefer not to become a possession of any man through my beauty."

"I have not stated you as a possession, but that you have opened me up like a tulip in the summer. Your light feeds me. It accentuates everything around me."

The sun replies forcefully before it is absorbed by the clouds.

"Do not dare to reduce me to your lonely thoughts. Paint me if you must, admire if you will. But you do not know or understand me."

With that, the painter sits watching the clouds devour the light. He feels alone. His thoughts have caused him guilt. With a tear in his eye he eradicates his image of the sunrise before him. The canvas is covered in black. The painter waits for the night sky for comfort.
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It is so much more comfortable now. The darkness hides his shame. The sky has been dark for many hours now and the lights from the distant cities have started to fade enough so that the stars are the source of luminescence for the eve. The painter's heart has started to ease. The tension of guilt has been swallowed by the night. His body has fallen asleep but his mind and soul are still at work. Looking up to the starry canvas he thinks of beauty and what meaning it brings to him.

What else is there in this world? So many people spend their time avoiding the world. Their eyes are locked away from the images around them. But they claim to know beauty and to enjoy it. Why should they waste the day admiring nature when there is so much work to be done? They claim to admire the world ---------

"I've been to museums, I've spent the allotted time looking at pictures. I have more important things to do then spend hours poised motionless in the world to look at everyday!"

But do you see them. A quick glance at a prairie and then down the road to distractions that can consume your time. To pull you away from any dreary thoughts that may inhabit your mind. You must not stay idle for long or you will feel that you have wasted time. Time that could have been better spent.

You claim to have feeling for beauty but ignore it at every chance. Your love sits before you. She is painted. A tint in the hair, an amber hew to coat the lips, lips you once find a special sweetness to. Rouge protects her from the rare caress from your hand. She is hidden behind a mask of false beauty. The skin can not remember the last touch of warmth it has felt from the sun or the freshness of a drop of rain trickling down the face. The pores are choked with the deceptive paint. A paint that can not create beauty --------

The painter has argued with the world around him. He wishes to admire the things around him without the fear of ridicule from man. He feels the guilt rise through him again. Why is he not permitted to love his world without it? He has the same failings of all men and needs his paint and canvas to distract him.

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He has started to dab the canvas with the stars. The same stars that are able to light the sky. They accompany a moon that spreads its reflection enough to cause a shadow from the trees in the night. And so the painter is distracted.

There is no complaint from the night. It does not mind being admired. So often she sits only, her dank atmosphere moves people inside at a hurrying rate. They seem to avoid her. She is frequented by the lonely. They provide a landscape that is not quit motionless. She enjoys their company. Her greatest thrill comes from love. Occasionally when the moon is bright and the air is not too biting she is visited by lovers. The lovers find the night accepting their passion with respect. No peering eyes to distract them, to make them feel uncomfortable. They are able to share their warmth. The whole world is listening to their hearts and souls. There is no recanting of emotions in this night. The painter has captured the figure of two lovers in an embrace. They hold each other under the shade of the dark tree. The painter feels the tender warmth in the air grow as the two lay next to each other in the black grass. He can no longer make out two images, but only one.

As dawn presents its first hint of life the lovers are motionless. A light invades the night. Its faint glitter dusts the landscape leaving a trace of light behind the tree. It dissolves the stars from the night sky at a tedious pace.

The painter has finished his distraction. He has captured the full brightness of the stars with the moon thrown shadow of the tree hanging over the lovers and the light dust settling all around. He has a rare smile across his despairing face. And in a light breath he whispers to the world "This is everything fine and beautiful. You can't take it from me. There is no guilt in the sleeping lovers hearts." No reply from the fading night can be heard but the greeting of the robin chirping in the tree interrupts him.

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The next day the painter spends his time sleeping under the shade of the tree. In his slumber he is happy that the night allowed him to paint. Guided by the moon and stars he was able to capture its open beauty. She was not upset.

There was no guilt. He had slept most of the day away. Upon waking he is greeted by the sun.

"Good day to you my young artist. You look well rested. By what occasion do you sleep the day away?"

"After you left the day before, I was troubled. I needed to find something to distract my eyes as well as my soul so I stayed the night in anticipation of capturing the night on my canvas."

"Why would you want to do that? The night is so bland. Everything is hidden in darkness how could you find any thing worth art there?"

"The night does not hide what does not desire to be hidden. It enables a person to open their eyes wider and to absorb what is around them."

"Did you see anything worthy of your eye?" asked the Sun.

"The most wonderful thing. I saw the sky lit up in a way you would never be capable of' It was the cooperation of the stars and moon. They cast a faint light on the earth. The night brought two lovers together. It made the night warm. And just before the night ended there was cast upon everything I saw, a golden dust. A dust that made a final mark for the night and signaled the coming of the day." The painter had a smile while remembering the uninterrupted lovers in the night. He could see their form tainted by the light of the breaking day.

The Sun broke in through his thoughts. "Surely if you find the night so fascinating you must find me most attractive?"

"I am attracted by you but you have tainted my heart with guilt." Replied the man. "You seem to be more accepting of me now. I do not know why. You were quite abrasive yesterday. My painting you disgusted you. I understand that you did not wish to just be a sight for my eyes but something with more meaning. You appeared to hate me."

"I am sorry! I did not intend to reject your thoughts. I wish I could explain my actions and what I was thinking but as the day draws to and end my energy is used for my setting. I cannot correct my errors. I envy your admiration of the night and do not understand why I would have been upset at you approach to sustain my beauty."

The Sun continues. "I can tell you this. I have been alone ever since my rising. There was no one to admire me this morning or through the day. I miss the attention of people. I believe myself to be beautiful in many ways but am ignored on infinite occasions. Since I am ignored at my peak of beauty you came imagine the pain I suffer through during the day. No one cares to acknowledge me when I am at work providing for them. They only look occasionally with admiring eyes during my greatest moments. But it does not last for long."

"I wish to be loved for what I do with no effort. All day long I nurture the plants. Without- me they would wither. Under my warm effortless love they grow. The light that emanates from me provides guidance for the animals that inhabit the world. They would be lost and injured in my absence. And as for Man I provide him with everything. Foods, heat, and light to live by. Seldom am I ever acknowledged for this." With this the Sun begins to strain for her last performance of the day.

The painter has become confused. He saw all these things in the Sun the day before. He felt the warmth that she had provided. He recognized what she had to offer and wished to immortalize her to make sure everyone saw her as he did. But she had rejected his love for her. It seemed as though she despised him that she was worthy of a greater man than the painter. His guilt was for nothing and a night has been wasted.

The painter hurries off with his eyes glimmering and a tear of joy running down his skin.

The Sun has strength only to utter these words.

"Do not hate me, do not leave me without your loving admiration."

The setting Sun is emotionless. Her colors are bland. The sky keeps it blue while the clouds become dirty from the yellow fading sun. The sunset continues on this way for a few moments. It has been long enough so that that anyone that was outside has taken cover for the night.

An explosion occurs. The Sun changes to a deep amber hue as its fire shifts to an incredible degree. The fire is burning the air into to shade of red. It infects the entire sky. The blue is turning to a fluorescent violet. The clouds burn a deep and solid orange, ignited from the Sun. An overwhelming mixture of color invades the sky. The colors begin to swirl together.

The tree stands before the Suns canvas absorbing the light indiscriminately. The painter approaches the scene with his heart racing and his arms full. His eyes are wide and reflect the spectacle that is before him.

"What happened? A few moments ago it looked as though you were about to rest for the night and now you have lit the world with your beauty."

"I felt your warmth approaching. I thought you had left. I see you have brought your paints and a canvas. Please take me with you. Capture me forever and never forget what I am. I will never leave you that way. You will forever be able to love me. See me anytime your eyes, heart, and soul need me. We will always be together."

The man does not hesitate. The acceptance has replaced the guilt. They will be together forever, like the lovers under the tree. Never forgotten, their love will be seen by all except those who are blind to such things. The two paintings will stand next to each other in the painter’s heart. His love for her will always be next to the night. It cannot be forgotten that she did not always love him.