"Leopards break into the temple and drink to the dregs what is in the sacrificial pitchers; this is repeated over and over again; finally it can be calculated in advance and it becomes part of the ceremony" (Kafka). Everything becomes rehearsed. The beauty of spontaneity is lost as is the grandeur of interactions with the earth. The horizon coalescing with the sun and the ascension of the moon seem to no longer affect the way we position ourselves to crash into the burning desire of our arduous passions. The sun has not yet set and already we are in mourning for those that will be lost when the stars venture out into the sky to fall for the clouds of cold civility that mirror our confusion and clog our sense of ideals. But the clarity that comes with the lost cause of trying to bring back what was left of the day; the reflection of dusk, is enough to inspire awe within the most severe soul. Leopards are animals that break the silence and startle the world. So are we. But we live in the calmness of evening; we recognize the peace that comes with the rising of the moon and the hushed colors of the wind. But leopards will eventually shatter the tranquility, or birds or people shall and we will not enjoy it any longer. But then, we will enjoy our memories. "The shadows were very long; there was a deep blush on the sky, and the dark red earth seemed to glow with the setting sun. For a few moments, at that particular time of the day, there is deep silence. Nothing moves, and it does not occur to you to make any sound. Something is going on there in the shadows. Everything has slowed to a stop in order that the sun might take leave of the land. And then there is the sudden, piercing call of a bobwhite. The whole world is startled by it" (Momaday).