She sits with me and my way made clear Whisperings, inaudible pulses reflecting upon my soul. Like a luminous halo invisibly suspended above my head And, I know, even though I know do not how I know that I know.
So she is always, always right. Howbeit not in a boastful, vindictive way But rather as an explosive impulse, to which when heeded Makes glad the soul.
She is Spirit. She is Light.