In sleep, mostly in sleep,
ever in sleep, the ache
pulls and my heart will
burst as I gaze upon the
faces of those who have
gone before and in whose
presence there is still
so much work to do; the
dreams go on, the ache
goes on, the work is
never done. Awake, grate-
fully awake from the
intensity of the dream,
I sit staring out the
window holding my heart
hoping the ache soon
will depart.