It’s mainly in the night my inner light
Shines forth, when quietly I meditate
Or ruminate or muse and find the sight
Of things unseen by day to contemplate.
It’s then I best commune with my own soul,
My higher self, asleep throughout the day
When mundane drives and motives take control
And hold my subtle holy sprite at bay.
But now, all still, surrounded by the dark,
I open up my soul, a treasure chest,
And peer inside in hopes a gleam or spark
Will blaze to consciousness and make me blessed,
For now it is the far end of December,
A time for souls and bodies to re-member.