My Blue

I stand at the edge of darkness, hand outstretched to catch the twilight. It pools gently in my palm, swirling almost imperceptibly. I am expecting to see grey, and fading streaks of gold, the kind you see as the sun goes down, darkening the day into nothingness. The final sunset of my life. But as I look at the soft cloud in my hand, it is blue. Blue, the pale, pure blue that always accompanies the sun at the thresholds of day and night. Rising or setting. The blue that is rarely noticed, it is so subtle and fleeting, but there all the same. It could go either way. It could brighten and distil into that azure shade of day, clean and clear, or it could deepen and darken, gathering into the cobalt abyss, shadowy and inexplicable. The choice is mine. But it will always be there. Day and night. Always there to embrace me and drown me. Beginning and ending. My blue.

I tip my hand, and the twilight spills between my fingers in misty rivulets of…

…blue.