Last Light

I remember standing cliffside at the Apostles, the wind sharp, the air heavy with salt, and the light, unreal. It wasn’t just sunset, it was something more deliberate. The sun casting itself across the land like it knew it was about to disappear, like it needed to leave something behind.

And for a moment, it felt like the cliffs weren’t just being lit, they were showing the sun its own brilliance. Like the light could finally see itself reflected back. I stood there thinking, maybe that’s the truth of it. Maybe light, like us, only understands its power when it touches something else.

There’s something powerful in the idea that beauty, at its peak, is often fleeting. That the light only knows its own strength when it has something to illuminate.

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