Upon a midnight blue road, puddles moon-lit, the T-Bird flew on. As the countryside left and right became a Monet blur, yards became miles. There were hills and mountains along the way, at times a curveless, optically infinite, highway ahead. This was where eagles fly. This was the road from prairie to shore. White lights in front and rose lights as anti-shadows, it glided toward its destination as if it were a dream on automatic.
In the khaki darkness, upon the great shadow that the mountain had become, the roadway was a rising ribbon of light. Earnest wasn’t sure if the sun was rising or setting, as he’d awoken concussed after the battle. He rubbed the bump upon his head. The sky was boulder-grey with a glimmer of smudged sunlight. The ocean roared high onto the nearby coastline. Then the mountain blushed a tinge more green and he had his answer - it as the dawn.
In a black night that hugged the skin, that brought full comfort to the soul, those headlights became as lighthouse beams.
When the soulful earthy browns of daylight have rested their golden hues, when the stars have come full shine, it is the headlights that lead the way until the new dawn light.
Those all-white headlights became the dashing stars of that night, shining until the new day arrived.
That headlights were a galaxy of souls finding their way until sunrise.
In the headlights the black tarmac opened up as the most inviting of roads.
Firm black tarmac, headlights on, tires with full grip... it was go time.
The headlights were as two bright stars lighting up the night.
Those headlights shone as two bright eyes into the canvas of night.