# Flying Into the Sun > After a year without seeing the sunset from my cell window, I finally witness it again—a brilliant fireball of orange, red, and purple. This daily blessing reminds me of God's beauty even after decades inside. **Published**: 2026-06-05 **Source**: https://gps.press/flying-into-the-sun/ **Author**: Standing Bear --- Author: Standing Bear "Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." — 1 Corinthians 13:12 Today, May 18th 2026, I witnessed my first sunset since last year. It's getting to be that time of year again where I can see the sunset once more from my cell's window. With this side of the prison and my cell window facing directly north, the sun has come all the way around behind me since last year, and its setting is now visible once again. What a blessing to watch! I just so happened to look out my cell's window at the fading sunlight at 8:17 pm and notice the sun setting out of the far left corner of my window. I can now witness the sun rising out the east from the far right corner of my cell's window, and its setting out the far left corner. What a blessing to experience both! While not appreciated near as much before, now after decades inside of prison, I'm grateful for being allowed to witness the beauty of God's creation. This morning there's a misty fog still floating in between the distant trees at 7:01 am, with the glimmer of sunlight still behind the corner of the building to my right. By 7:14 the morning sun has risen above the building's roof. It is shining brightly upon my face as I look out my cell's window and count 54 inmates going into the prison's garment factory to begin their work day. Located exactly 100 yards away from our building, the prison laborers have been let out of their cells early to go to work in the cool of the morning. In one month's time, by mid-June, the garment factory will become an un-air-conditioned sweatshop of fans blowing around and circulating the 100°+ heat in the building made of tin and baking in the unrelenting sun. With the sun sitting just two fingers' width above the horizon of the tree line, I had right at twenty minutes to watch before it slowly sank behind the distant horizon of trees. An intense ripe orange and yellow fireball with emanating auras of purples and dark blues as it makes its discernible descent before my gazing eyes. To my perceiving eyes it looks like a huge ocean of shimmering parallel waves just in front of it. A mirage of ocean waters before a sinking sun. As the setting sun's rays touch the far away trees, it's gradually transformed into a sinking fireball of a bright red intensity. By the time it began its descent behind the trees, the sun had turned into a brilliant blood red, with an atom-bomb-shaped cloud trailing above as it sank further down into the distant horizon of trees. Now completely gone, as evidence it still sends out rainbow waves across the sky of red and orange into the twilight of the darkening sky. I'd never seen a pilot fly directly into the sun before. But that evening it was the first thing I noticed, right after I saw the yellow ball of fire out the far left corner of my cell's window. While I watched the sun go down, I witnessed it for the first time myself. The long streaking contrail left just behind the jet, and the aftermath of puffy clouds left by the passing of a commercial airliner jet, doesn't lie. An undeniable arrow flying straight, directly into the sun. I've seen plenty of commercial airliners flying at angles or parallel to the sun, but never had I ever seen one flying directly into the sun. He had to have been flying on autopilot, because the pilot was as sure as hell unable to see a thing. He was completely blinded forward, all except for his instrument panel.