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