The bright night

so much that I do not know
I reach out in the familiar dark
watch the bright sky at night
move as it usually does
my untrue thoughts tell me stories
of what will, may, or may not happen
happy and cheerful in the bright dead of night
Who am I when the stories stop?
when my muscles relax
and my head is at peace
and I speak the language of the universe
and I hear the quiet silence?
There is so little in so much
and so much in the nothing
if only I could sit still and listen
to the clock of the world
measuring Time

in the here and now
wherever my feet are
in the bright night
where so little
is all of me and my whole life
and today is all I have
and all my goals
are not worth a single accomplishment