I sleep, abrupt awakened, by stroke of fingered word. A wide and lingering voice plaintively whispering so much view my eyes cannot digest, so much ache, my soul cannot find rest. You are that sound of distancing voice never nearer now to me. A pane upon my window beckoning come see! come see! I cannot wake to find a different view or quit your echo in the things I do. Memories of you are nuclear atoms which, when split, destroy my world.