This gentle light that
passes through the winter night
And shed itself upon me true

And I think of a home
as I drink myself to sleep
Alone, something effortlessly new

Is not truth yet,
less even lies

The sun's rays upon me
The swaying of the grass with the morning dew
The starkness of dusk and dust
The twinge-together in this faceless mass of ancient evening dirt

Yes:

i saw a man, a silhouette,
one dark amidst the curving dilettantes spewing guilt
i saw a gentle light on a winter night
and he turned to it

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Chakros, in the year 200 MA.