The Sunset is Not Beautiful

The sunset is not beautiful,
It is far too intimidating.
It is far too tall, and long, vast...
It silently taunts me
As I sit here contemplating 
My own mortality, and

Although it will eventually quench,
It will be return tomorrow,
…and I might not…
and so this terrifying transience
leaves me little but love and sorrow
for us,

 Us, with our lives so rare
Yet so frustratingly normal,
Are expected to waste
The time we have won
In disgustingly mundane, banal
practices, like the 

great trees in the green forest,
that only grow.