I didn’t chase the sunset today.

It found me.

Through a train window streaked with silence, in the middle of nowhere but halfway through everything—I looked up, and it was there.

A tree. A flame. A softness I hadn’t felt in weeks.

The sun wasn’t in a hurry.

It hung low, like it knew I needed someone to sit with me for a while.

And maybe I did.

Because lately, life has been a blur of brave faces and quiet breakdowns.

Of hospital corridors and midnight readings, of goodbye messages and unanswered prayers.

Grief has been sitting on my chest like a weight I can’t explain.

And hope? Hope has felt like a language I forgot how to speak fluently.

But this sunset—

this quiet, aching, golden goodbye—

it reminded me of something I keep trying to forget:

That even endings can be beautiful.

That even in sorrow, light finds a way to hold you.