Dreaming of dead friends these last ten days
All of them curiously happy though they’re grey
And they speak of Sisyphus in whispers
Ten dreams with the departed
And for nothing extra voila, Sisyphus!
Even Jung, not known for humor
Would laugh! The final years of life
Are a staging point for flight
What comes next—
Bathing solo
Under stars
Then they acquaint you
With your stone
