No space for metaphors today,
What you see is what you get. 
Clouds part, lift to reveal, that-

The sun is really a ball of lava
The moon is indeed the sun
Dark, a benign bat-knight
Stars, a war of funhouse lanterns
Mountains are false coffee highs
Rivers, a rapidly shifting self 
Valleys, the void in your soul
Fault lines, when your world quivered
Yet the earth is unchanging, home. 

When the clouds lift, 
You finally know the truth. 
Raw and real and complete. 

That orbits are wild roller-coasters, 
Planets quit life paths, mid-rotation
Faithful satellites turn sullenly willful
Shooting stars, your mouth in anger
Milky way, heavenly white chocolate
Asteroids, a celestial rock band
Mars, where avoidant men live in retrograde
Venus, sad poems, passionate, unrequited
Pluto, ignored child, ultimately relegated

When the clouds lift, they lift you up. 
Sometimes. 
Uplift you. 
And you see clearly, this moment. 
A rare happenstance of perfect alignment
Disguised (deceptively) as an eclipse.