Peace – Ginger Jones

September 26, 2025

Note to reader: Please read this when the sky is a pretty color. 

Everything starts to feel at peace on earth when the sun has set. Perfection tumbles and whirrs in the air when the sky goes from blue to pink to violet. Then just before it goes back to being blue, when it feels like there’s no color and it’s only a light, everything is silently alive. Every moment takes place here. I don’t believe in anything else but this. I have always lived for this. It’s the only semblance of truth I have ever known. Everything outside of this is just waiting and grueling. 

Words are unlike language here. They are whole things here. Everything is special and sparse and sacred. I believe that I cannot let this go. This where I am hooked. The sky, the stars, the moon, the touch of it all. But most of all, the moon. There is a transference of beauty that cascades over all living things in moonlight. I think that if I ever saw the Northern Lights I would perish from its transience. That’s what it feels like when you’re about to be kissed by somebody true and beautiful.You could fall to the ground with gratitude. Kiss back and rip it up for being so true and beautiful. How special and spare and scared that it is, feeling unrelenting gratitude for nature. 

It’s an angel that blankets the sky and you. In that moment you become part of the sky and you are a perfect shade too. Like coming home as someone loved. You can be here. You may think that time stands still here but it’s actually moving very fast. All that starlight racing towards you. That’s a force of nature. You can feel it nipping at your ankles. 

It doesn’t even look like color. There’s a feeling of suspension and impendence because it’s only shades of light. So fantastical that when you’re alone with it, it feels like you were made for the world in that moment. You were made for kissing and gratitude. On some cliffside where only a number of people have traversed. You seek it out. It’s not about conquering the feeling but letting it take hold of you, wrapping you in its arms. Years will pass till you’re able to get to that mountainside again. Standing on a cliff of a kiss. I’m saying: When I kiss you I’m in paradise. What isn’t love is regret from not loving.