I seek my souls the solitude of a sleeping house
In the darkness of a world just at the edges of awakening.
If I sit still enough I hear that small voice along side my heartbeat 
And the hum and rattle of the furnace.
Come into its rhythm.
Before the insistent swirl begins.

Sometimes I write.
Or read works of philosophy.
Sometimes I put on music and listen in the darkness my eyes closed.
Sometimes I just sit and sip my coffee.

My soul is what I seek but may never be pinned down.