Squinting at the suchness of things

Squinting at the suchness of things.  When you look up to the stars and you’re tired, the lights up there are nothing wondrous, nor are they anything particularly bleak.  When you’re tired, the stars do not seem to carry any message, nor do they seem to signify anything.  They are the lights you’re used to considering when the head bobs upwards, because they just happen to be there; there is nothing to them, really, no promises of gods, no absurdity, no lack or gift of clarity.  Just lights; it’s as though our tiredness allows us to see things as they are, without any ulterior motive, even though enlightenment is the last thing on our hearts before we drift to sleep.