Hello, my crimson sunshine

She stands on the edge of the cliff, the burning crimson sun that blurs her edges, making her look the ethereal spirit of the sun's fury. She stands with her back to the sun and her front to me and the brightness, this terrible brightness wraps her figure and yet her facade remains a shadow, oblivious to the raging of the light behind her.

The wish, almost a whisper, passes from my lips without me noticing it. A sudden utterance of an urgent need, to stop the time, as the vision of heaven and hell blurs into a single reality. The knowledge that her presence is fleeting, that sweet sorrow that takes my breath away, emptying the mind of thought, realigning it and making the task of etching her ephemeral image on my mind the very core of existing at that point of time.

Yet I must move on. I will turn my back at this vision because of the fact that it is a vision. My reality has always been dreary, mixed with tragic humor that makes it real. Yet the image of my lady and the burning crimson sun will burn in my heart like the embers of an eternally dying flame. It will never go out.