And it is almost as though the fading light illuminates the trite fantasies of childhood.
At their dawn, they flash more brilliantly than the brightest star,
which is ironic because as a child I always used to confuse dawn with twilight.
They reach a point when they are more realized, closer to the realm of possibility,
watered down yet somehow closer to us.
The child becomes adult and gives up the remnants of its glowing fantasies.
The child becomes adult and adorns itself with a charcoal suit - quite fitting, really.
Black and white is now shades of grey,
and the fading light goes away entirely, hopeless resignation taking its place,
disguised as a comforting sense of accomplishment.
