About this image

As the evening comes, sun bleeds through our world, reflected on water, another dying day.
The colors of the flame gives way to the cold pale of the ashes, and everything grows silent.
In  mourning, until the morning comes.
And color drops tint the world, and it lives again with the newborn sun, rising in the horizon to reign in glory and bring another day.

Bite your tail, the cycle never stops.