One evening, when during sunset, a mother and her little son walked up a hill-he had met her on her way back from work, talking about being a poet someday, perhaps even a farmer, that he'd take care of her when she got old. He had but to lifted his eyes, and there it was as clear as daybreak to be seen in her eyes, though in years, and miles away; and now with the day being covered over by night, an orange brightening surrounded the last opening of what was left of day. And what was the Great Truth?