Gate

The moon is nearly full, again, so often I see it beam across the mountains and light them in eerie silhouettes. Tonight, with the blanket of snow, they seem to glow. I sit in the steaming water on the back porch, watching the smoke curl off my skin and into the twilight. Expecting epiphany, as always, but receiving only inner calm. I will take it. 

I sit at the gate again, the same gate as not long ago, but how much more my nerves trembled then. The pieces fell into place while I was away: a future stretches into the distance suddenly, where before every road was unimaginable. It paints itself in giddy colors and reassuring patterns. It gives me a foothold, and a spark. 

I am arriving.