Sunsets - The Story
To Galia
There were two friends - an Artist and a Poet. The Artist had a big family and a very happy life. The Artist lived on a beautiful tropical island, had many friends, laughed a lot, enjoyed life and the beautiful nature, and painted colorful pictures of flowers, birds, animals and trees. The Poet lived a lonesome life in a big cold city and deep sadness made him write gloomy poems. Sadness was OK for the Poet since he believed that all ‘good poetry’ was always a result of a miserable life. The Poet never had many friends since he believed that people just waste his precious time.
Although living far away from each other, the Artist and the Poet kept in touch by sending messages and calling each other.
“How are you, my friend?”, asked the Poet one evening.
“I’m very well. Just resting and enjoying my kids playing on the beach. How are you?”
“I’m OK. I’m trying to write happier poems now. The cheerful paintings of an artist I saw here inspired me a lot. Art could be a great Muse for a poet... What are you painting?”
The Artist’s mind drifted far away watching the incredible sunset that night.
“I’m thinking of painting some sunsets...”
“Sunsets? But they’re so sad...They remind me of the end of life - of death...”
“Oh, no! They’re so beautiful! I always watch them and every evening the sunset is different.”
The Poet was very surprised. “ Tell me more”, he asked.
“I love to be here at the beach to watch the sunset - the greatest performance of Nature. Like in a theater, but it’s free. The clouds are different every time and the colors change - purples and reds, oranges and yellows... Sometimes you can see an arrow across, sometimes ribbons or popcorn in the sky. Once I saw the wonderful feathered pink fan of a fairy's...”
The Poet was listening to the astonishing descriptions of the sunsets the Artist had witnessed for a long time and finally he asked, “Then how come you’ve never painted sunsets before?”
The Artist thought for a moment and said, “I guess, the problem was that all those sunsets which I really wanted to paint were so amazing that if I did, nobody would have believed me.”
There was a pause. “ So, paint them anyway... just for yourself,” said the Poet.
On the very next day, the Artist received a message from the Poet. It contained a long sad poem about the sunsets.
A few days past and the Poet was eager to hear from his friend how good his poem was but he had not heard from the Artist.
A few weeks past. Worried for the Artist, the Poet called, “How are you doing my friend?”, he asked.
“Great”, answered the Artist, “Sorry I didn’t call. Just can’t stop painting those sunsets...”
In a few months, the Artist wrote a letter to the Poet to cheer him up. The letter said:
‘Dear Friend,
Thank you so much for your advice. By painting the sunsets, I discovered and experienced great delights and pleasure. I was so happy I caught myself singing. Here I wrote down some of my songs for you:
BEFORE THE SUNSET
Just before the sunset
Floating clouds arrive
Just before the sunset
The stormy rain got dried.
Just before the sunset
All colors fill the sky
Just before the sunset
I feel Love nearby.
*
ABOVE THE SUNSET
Just above the sunset
The angels meet and laugh.
Just above the sunset
They play and lay a scarf.
Just above the sunset
The angels bathe in gold
Just above the sunset
Magic is taking hold.
*
BEYOND THE SUNSET
Just beyond the sunset
Someone waits for you
Just beyond the sunset
All dreams do come true.
Just beyond the sunset
Lies a home for you,
Just beyond the sunset
Go, sing, and love and do!
Love,
The Artist'
Unfortunately, the Poet never saw the Sunset Art and never read this letter. The letter is stil in the Post Office, waiting to be picked... In his efforts to avoid all kinds of communication with people who ignored or bothered him, the Poet closed his mailbox.
