Advent

The mornings are cooler, now, the nights spent best around a fire to watch the moon rise. I sit on the back porch at midnight, watching the stars and wondering if they might lead the way. The bags are nearly packed, now, the tingle under the soles of your feet eagerly shaking itself into high gear. The desert awaits, the road awaits, you sit looking for shooting stars only to see them tumble in the periphery, this was the secret all along. 

If it was too easy, you would fight for nothing.
Shooting stars do not avail themselves to you. 

You must go into the darkness
to find them.