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?
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