i will likely never know where it is i am gone to. Even when i am gone there, what will exist that still can be called "me"?

Each time the Sun sets, i am reminded of this: that the Sun is not gone, it merely is gone to those of us who enter the night. We rest assured of the Sun's return, and the night's, too; we have trained ourselves to not fear the sudden collapse of the solar system, not to panic about another mutiny in Heaven or dread an upending of the physical laws that made and sustain us.

Dusk is a moment of great wonder for me; a little sadness at the passage of time, a delight in the promise of rest. Even on the dreariest of days, the sky seems to expand -- if the sky had shoulders, they would relax at this moment -- and time seems to enter a thin envelope of eternity.

May your moments of rest and wonder expand at each dusk, and may your soul calmly dwell within that envelope of eternity from which you were born.

Your friend --

Mr. Gobley


karen said...

Dusk is the best time of day- no sadness from me. This is the time of awakening in the countryside. As a kid, we'd take ~rides~ after chores to see what neighbors had accomplished during a day- and to search the fields for deer & fox.

My memories are all wrapped up in dusk; numbed feet from running around in the dew-soaked grass w/out shoes. The music of the night, too- esp the whip-poor-will. I've never heard another since i've left my home farm.

I'd really like to go back.

amba said...

At dusk I can run endlessly and effortlessly. I seem to become weightless. In Florida I can run on the beach barefoot without hurting my feet on shells or stones. Here, I discovered that I can push 280-pound J up the last hill to home without fatigue at dusk, while it's quite a struggle in afternoon sunlight. What gives??

Flying Cat said...

Mr. Gobley,

My Friend Randy died on this day that you wrote this haunting post.

Thank you.


Mr. Gobley said...


i humbly hope he will live in your memory, in your words and deeds, and that his memory will give you strength.