The soul is made of finer stuff
Than frankincense and myrrh
It’s made of all the dreams and thoughts
That hum and tick and whirr
About the cold and barren nights
And blow along the breeze
The soul is made of starlight
That paints the night with ease
A symphony of winter tea
That whirls about the mind
It crests and falls and overall
The soul is tough to find
A silken sheet, a crimson peace
To lay upon at night
The soul is made of finer stuff
The soul is made of light.
