There is nothing like being a witness to the ‘Magic Hour’,
or, as a photographer would call it, the ‘Golden Hour’.
A time at the end of every sunny day
when the Sun shine’s it’s last luminous ray;
when the sky above looks as if it is has been set on fire-
a spectacle that you could look upon forever and never ever tire.
There is an energy in that hour that is impossible to replicate;
especially if you spend it with someone you love, or on a date.
There is also a wonderful, empowering amazement that you feel;
something about the Magic Hour that is the most ideal;
awe-inspiring, emotional- like a hypnotizing delirium-
a conduit for the poetry in motion of the universal continuum.
In an instant I am energized, invigorated, ensorcelled, and aglow,
because the universe has chosen now to bestow
the breathtaking canvas of the living painting that we all inhabit,
and also to deliver a message that is so implicit
that it is undeniably, inarguably, the world’s worst kept secret,
and one that I think we all sometimes forget:
that we, I, you, and me,
are all already closer to one another than we could ever dream to be.

rutilus hora