Dave Bonta's short poem catches a familiar moment: the night before a journey, when everything outside you is in order and everything inside is not. The house has been cleaned "from top to bottom," a tidy, practical kind of preparation. But the speaker's mind is "disordered," unsettled about leaving. The contrast is simple and true. We can scrub a floor, but we can't so easily tidy our nerves.
The last two lines shift the feeling. The speaker expects to "visit other lights," which suggests new places with their own kind of daylight, and adds that the lights "now every day grow less." That could point to the shortening days of autumn or winter, though the poem doesn't say so. It might also hint at something more personal, like time running down. Either way, the mood is quiet and a little uneasy, mixing anticipation with a faint sadness. The speaker is ready to go, and not quite ready at all.