Our Souls At Night

Tonight you step outside. Out where the fireflies alight on unseen eddies of air; out to where the stars lend their light and a breeze caresses your hair. You sit on the step and you wonder how a time so dark ever seems so bright; you drift in reverie and you ponder just where our souls go at night. Not while your dreams take flight behind eyes closed and blankets warm; but while your sleep loses the fight to the muse's ceaseless storm. Where do our spirits flee to when the sun is long out of sight; why does rumination find its cue after most have said goodnight? Why does this hour make thoughts unite and scrutiny of life reach full speed; why is it so much easier to feel and write when the moon from its daily chains is freed?