Midnight

the stars, a canopy overhead i know

here you can see so many more

someone has left the lights on

to help me find my way home at night

in the dark

but i am inside these four walls or so

and cannot see them

i know they are there, perhaps some cloud has passed in front

before them, between the stars and i

today, sore for no reason, the adjustment slipped i think

i should do what i want if only i knew what truly

that was i would, for now i sit and think about stars

i cannot see, and do nothing

writing about stars i cannot see

up in the sky, above me

somewhere on the other side of that ceiling

roof, constructed to protect

yet conceal

blocking off my view

of the stars. i am aware

however that they are there

there is no question, only why

and certainly - answerless

i remain alone, cat under bed

hiding from sarcasm

which hides true feeling from felt

i heard cups clinking in the other room

a rustling about, surely someone, a woman

is there even now, moving about, straightening

preparing for what i do not know

i erect a longing to know what i desire

surely there must be things worth knowing

how to tell a story, sing children to sleep

sacrifice life, time to knowledge, practice

person preaching to person, perhaps

knowledge is good, more than a little

less than experience. pretend, for a moment

you know nothing, not much has changed, maybe

your name, the meaning of words, just so many lines

on a face, so many years, grey hair, what time?

so life moves on, stand still watching

washes over what you call yourself for a moment

what is self? what is to know?

apples and oranges, and a dream

and dreamer, and a source of heat