Count them

The farm implements rest for the night
while the cattle in the next room stomp about
trying to negotiate with sleep.
But this room, around me,
is filled with people
now lying down
only to tackle the tomorrow.
Reality has its gashes on everyone here.
Violent wrinkles smile at me in a faint light.
My mind attracts a mob of thoughts,
encircles them in a halo of memory.
Suddenly around me are only bodies.
Organisms breathing in and out. 
The conscience has left them now.
Too deep a sleep for anything.

I count them, relate to them.
These threads of many stories assembled here.