Something Is It

Something is in it, a sort of drug or mischief Something is in it, the sudden hope's rebirth Something is in it, the new urge for all to give Something is in it, something cuddled in the earth And every December this thing awakens, marched Upon the soul of men, and they inbreathing it Like rain sucked into a desert lung, dry, empty parched Sends unwreathing forth a mist-bright spirit Let them jingle bells and burn their logs by trees Hung with decadence and lies, I shall remain alone In custom melancholy, unaffected by the breeze I will not behold the Medussa that turn all to stone