riding through the city lit up by Lights , of celebration,

Riding through *
The city
Lit up by Your awesome pity,
Your celebratory Lights,
Hanging tiny bulbs bright,
Yellow, white, bluish green,
Your mirth, wet wet on me like a cream,
Is my getting to you perfect,
Is my walking on your red, a carpet,

Riding through
The city,
Lit up by your festivity,
Your Bless, your piety,
Dressed in colors varied,
Feet of children running smiling hurried,
Is my rise to an occasion,
Is my rise to Your rhyme and reason,

Riding through
The cool breeze,
Like Your piano on me soul, without cease,
Your moves, your shining face,
Your lacquer, your grace,
Spread up till the end of the Road,
Is like me taking on to the world so broad,
Is like me receiving all daggers and swords,

Harmlessly,
Painlessly,

As if me hath lost my bones,
As if me hath lost my skin,
As if me hath by You turned invisible,
Just a placid sea,
Just a misty fog, an ethereal screen.

( Note: *recollected memory of riding my motorcycle through the city, this evening, only, watching the city lighted up, this festive season)