moving through the gloaming

During the gloaming, or from now on: The Gloaming, time seems at a standstill. The sky is lighting or darking, and for a moment, it seems like this is the new reality. It will never be properly Day or Night again. The early morning commuters all recognize this event, even with out properly acknowledging it. The over the road distance transporters feel that this time is the proper time to swap duties with their reliefs. Runners find that they can no longer quite see the trail in front of their feet, potholes take on an ominous caste, turns tend to surprise.

The Gloaming is when the fairies and goblins might be glimsed. In that brief and endless moment, anything is possible, however implausible. Cherubs flee from the coming day, and might be espied descending back to Terra for night-time revels. Sol and Luna, watchful sky parents dance around staying or leaving, seemingly unwilling to abandon his or her vigil.

The specific quality of light one receives during The Gloaming makes movement precarious. Steps need to be plotted in advance of this mistakenly called "twilight" time. Motorists need to pay better attention, and at a time when the mind often thinks only of sleep, either that which was so recently surrendered, or that to which the weary traveler hurries. Color is drained and washed, making everything seem of the same hue. Tones of grey suffuse the world.

Ghosts and spirits raise their tired heads, and for a moment rejoice that the world has joined them in somber rememberance. The catharsis of night into day, and day flushing into night gives them a feeling of comraderie with the living world. The Gloaming is when the dead can finally move on to Heaven, Nirvana, or even just a simple reincarnation. The transitory nature of the infinite minute opens the gates and the floodwater of souls pours both into and out of death.

The Gloaming is.