The whiteness of the Christmas lights is relative. Compared to the silver-lined brilliance of the stars they're madeirized, tarnished brass, but no less cheerful for it. They're warming, while the beauty and clearness of the stars chills.
It's the right time of year for epiphanies, regardless of belief. The crisp cold of the air brings clarity, and not just of the starlight. As usual, it's the simple truths that come out - overlooked, ignored or denied until now. They're revelation brings comfort regardless of the mind and heart's turmoil.
The clouds still linger, but the space between them expands, the starlight shines through and I see clearly, myself, writing.