I am sleeping less but the dreams
last longer, full of daylight and dread,
anger and confusion. There may be
sleep, but there is no rest.
There is a crack in my world, a chasm
separating yesterday and tomorrow,
memories and visions. The edges blur
and the depths beckon.
She prays for me, asking for the pieces
to be made whole, the abstract clear
and the distant near. The angels hover,
awaiting the bells toll.
A somewhat disjointed start of a reply to
Margo Roby’s image prompts.