Twilight – one part of it is hope, the other is resignation… a submission to the forces around and beyond… impatience giving way to forbearance as the last of the light tucks itself into a lunar solace… a time of the day when thoughts become atmospheric, sacrificing their precision, anesthetized by a sense of nostalgia… ‘tis a microcosm of the transience that characterizes the universe as a whole, a sweet momentary sensation that leaves wistfulness in its wake…

Amidst icy tomes in the backcountry, all of these emotions are accentuated by the solitude… as one cuts away from most of the animate for a candid rendezvous with the elements, relishing their beauty and questioning their brutality… unlike their diurnal counterparts, the crepuscular and nocturnal wayfarers are mostly given to silence, and the resulting quietude is soothing at first, thought provoking after a while and perturbing if one ruminates too much deep into the night…

There is no foil to twilight, for it operates more in the subconscious, where everything, from fading shadows to fiery sunsets, from crackling fires to cracking glaciers, from darkening canopies to departing clouds, coalesces, leading an unwilling, tired disposition to the doors of the metaphysical – questioning existence when one should be worrying about survival, becoming stoic in the face of danger when one could act valiant, begging for warmth by cursing the cold, contemplating the futility of everything camped so near to the summit… ‘tis a tricky hour, the twilight, waiting like a vulture to prey on insecurities…  

Twilight is when one reconciles aspirations with achievements, knowing that one has given all that they could muster, and now must relinquish control to the brooding night, either arriving safely at the shores of dawn or quietly letting their mortality being subsumed into the infinite tapestry of the firmament…

Musing on twilight in the high mountains…