Like a twin pulled away from the other at birth, I feel we are entwined, though I cannot conceive of how.
Twin candles, bent to the will of the central saint, casting their light to the corners of the chapel. Father Jeremiah I thought could be trusted with the secret, but he is like all of the others. So the old priest has gone to the holding pens with his flock, he says he will enter into our world with them. A shepherd indeed.