illumination

The dark of the moon illuminated what had skulked in the shadows so long.

On that short winding road home, my sister shined for me. The truth slid into place, clicked like cogs freshly oiled. The binaries multiplied into the infinite, like so many satellites above us.

Sustanance supped over breakfast. I am cradeled by the webs we weave. Though the fog may dip into the valleys on cold mornings, and the dips in the road may rattle the chassey, home remains a constallation, drifting in the night skies, lighting my way.