Long before it bore its name, Earth began turning on its axis. The direction of spin must have been predetermined. Some higher being must have known that plates would move, rock would shift, mountains would lift, and water would flow. Emotionally, I cannot accept randomness as a cause. These mountains were placed here; this creek flows here, so I can sit before them, watching the sun fade, peacefully oblivious to the planet’s rotation and the forces that allowed this scene.
Diminishing light has shadowed trees, silhouetted peaks. They contrast with reflected light illuminating a trace of clouds. Slowly, subtly, the now-vanquished sun tints the sky; its tinge of color briefly held by a small pool. A beacon—in a darkening world.