so much.
there's so much going on in my brain when the haze of slumber wanes .gotta clean, find work, make soup, call Amy, Michael needs to do computer work, gotta fix the laptop, maybe get a cell phone, unlock the side door, make some coffee, "quiet, Caleb's still sleeping", drip drip, should've planted bulbs in the Fall, write a letter to him, talk to Him, pray, Michael's pouring a loud bowl of Fruity Pebbles, wanna go on Thoughts, research that hyssop tree, "Morgan, stop plucking your violin!", coffee's ready.
stop.
but in those first few semi-conscious, children-still-sleeping moments there is a clarity of absence; a meditative vacuum where the thoughts do not flow as torrential. Where no additional requests are added to the self-imposed litany.
and.
if I could capture those brief, precious few minutes; reduce their concentration so that they could be re-hydrated throughout the ardent, confusing chaos, I could make it through the war- torn battlefield, which is my current thought process, and perhaps have some kind of legit product at the end of the day.
go.
to bed at night, fully confident that much more was accomplished outside of tail-chasing and wheel-spinning. Not fatigued from dead horse beating or exhausted from dragging the living to water they'll never drink. Let me be weak, from production, not frail from atrophy. Let me sleep, really sleep, not just stagnate. And dream of sheep.

"Little light,
shining.
Little light,
will guide them to me.
My face is all lit up
My face is all lit up

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