Rejoice now, the inequality of the day,
For, once more, we persist toward symmetry.
The moon, round and bright, will light the way,
As souls ripen to warmth before the yule.
Constellations pulse coldly, holding the dark at bay,
While hearty radiance spills from festive chambers.
For this is where we touch, midway,
Then on, to where sunlight will conquer the night.