Born at Sunrise, Buried at Sunset

Sunrise is birth.

Not many wake up to see it. Just a few, the ones chasing peace, or maybe just curious enough to be there.
The world’s quiet then. That’s your beginning. That’s your close family.
The ones who are there when you take your first breath.
The ones who see you before the world even knows you’re here.
Like the sun, you rise slowly.
Nobody’s looking yet, but you’ve started.

They say early mornings are the best time to start anything.
Something new. Something bold. Something real.
Mornings are calm, clean, untouched.
That’s childhood.

If your morning goes wrong, the rest of the day feels weird. Off.
Same with life.
If your childhood’s cracked, you carry it,
The regret, the guilt, the stuff no one sees. But if your mornings were good, if your childhood gave you something to stand on,
you step into the afternoon ready.
Adulthood starts there.
The part where everything feels possible.

Then comes noon.

Adulthood. Brightest part of the day.
You’re at your peak, working, building, moving fast.

And funny thing is, the brighter you shine, the more people back off.
They wear sunglasses.
Stay indoors.
No one likes staring at the sun.
No one wants to be too close when you’re on fire.

They’ll say it’s too much. Too loud. Too bright.
But a few people?
They step outside and look up.
“Damn, that’s a bright day.” They’re not scared of your shine.
They’re proud of it.
Keep those people close.
Most won’t see you at your best.
Some will even avoid you when you need them the most.

And sometimes, during the day, it rains.

Could be a downpour. Could be a light drizzle.
That’s the sun crying.
That’s you.

When it pours, you’re hurting.
When it drizzles, maybe you’re just overwhelmed, in a good way or bad.
Either way, it’s tears.

And people don’t show up for rain.
They stay inside.
Even if it’s joy. Even if it’s pain.

Only a few will come out, stand in it with you.
No umbrella. No questions.
They just let it hit them too. Those people? They’re rare.
The ones who don’t flinch when you break or overflow.
You hold on to them.
Put them somewhere safe in your heart. Lock the door and throw the key away.
Don’t let them go.

Then come the storms.

Thunder. Lightning. Tornados.
That’s your anger.

The kind that builds for too long.
The kind you try to swallow until it explodes.

When that happens, you don’t see who you hurt.
You don’t see what you wreck.

Sometimes, even the door in your heart, the one you swore to keep shut, breaks open.
And people leave.
Or you push them out. Your storms don’t just pass.
They leave damage.

And then, some days, it just snows.

No noise. No heat. No emotion.
Just stillness.

You’re not trying to be anything.
Not shining, not crying, not yelling.
Just… being.
Existing. Quiet.

It’s rare.
But when it happens, it’s peaceful.
That’s reflection.

That’s when you actually meet yourself,
without the noise, without the roles, without the pressure.
Just you. A warm soul sitting in a cold, quiet world.
White, soft, untouched.
And eventually… it melts.
And life moves again.

Then comes sunset.

And this time, everyone’s watching.

People stop whatever they’re doing to see it.
Even strangers.
It’s quiet. It’s heavy. It means something.

That’s death.
When you’re gone, suddenly everyone has something to say.

People you met, loved, worked with, passed by, they all show up.
More than at the beginning.
Weird, isn’t it?

Sunrises go unnoticed.
Sunsets get all the attention.

Maybe that means you made an impact.
Maybe it means you mattered.
Enough for people to stop, for once, and just… remember. Just to say a GoodBye.

Then night falls.

The sun is gone.
So are you.

But the moon shows up.
That’s your soul.
Still glowing. Just softer now.
Watching. Quiet Angel.
A white light in the sky.

Down here, your family mourns.
They cry through the night.
Hoping someone new comes along.
Someone who reminds them of you.
Or maybe someone who helps them forget. Because that’s how it goes.
Every sunrise brings a new name.
And within two mornings…
most of us are memories.
Faded.

And here’s the strange part,

In some places, the day stretches on forever.
In others, the night never ends.
And in some places, the sun barely rises before it’s gone again.

Just like life.

Some people live long, bright lives.
Some live in constant darkness.
Some… blink, and it’s already over.

Some find precious things,

Some must lose everything,

And it is not fair…

And not everyone gets all the moments we talked about.
Some skip childhood.
Some never get peace.
Some don’t make it to sunset.

Everyone’s day is different.
Everyone’s life is different.

We all live one day….. just in a million different ways. And somehow, that has to be enough.

*******************************THE END***********************************

Published on: 07/12/2025, at 2:05 PM.