My room smells of white sage, I burnt earlier to-day.

The window chimes are chime-chiming away.

The rain pelts upon the panes of the glass.

And cars drive by, some slow, some fast.

The black light is dim, for only me to see.

I read dusty novels, and bless-ed  poetry.

I'm finally at peace, after a tiresome day.

I'm not solemn, nor joyous, just content as I lay.