We have this one life to live, so we sow our dreams plenty. We plan, we persevere, headed for great harvest.

So how do we survive when there seems to be no yield?

No dream left of growing old together... no expected laughter of grandchildren...no sight of purpose in an unfamiliar land.

How do we breathe when the distance grows longer, the phone shouts silence, the loneliness sucks out the very oxygen that moves us? 

Best laid plans buried in a garden plot.

We grasp for the next of kin and realize they're sowing their own plans and we aren't a part of them.

How do we bury life-long dreams; is there even enough desire or energy to plant new ones?