The Sleeper

The sleeper rests in the void of the self

A blank canvas, ripe with possibility of color.
The unmolded master piece, it waits in the dark
For hands that shake, for eyes that cannot see,
Groping through the dark to find it, cherish it,
And with trembling fingers and unsteady gaze discover it,
And take its sustenance and grow strong.

In this void, this vacancy of being,
Out of the dark before the dawn,
There forms a seed,
A shining speck of light amid the darkness,
Created by this yearning place,
Its manifest desire to expand in three dimensions,
To be a lightless void no more.

The sleeper stirs,

And the seed takes root in it's parent darkness
And sends out shoots,
Green leaves, bright with the joy of living,
Shine out into the surrounding gloom.
Then more leaves appear, a stalk, a bud;
It slowly flowers, brilliant white against the silent blackness
Cradling a spark of blue within its mysterious depths.

The sleeper is restless,grumbles, struggles towards consciousness

And the blossom, like the morning star ascending,
Parts from it's greater whole,
And soars up, bright against the brightening sky,
As it streaks across the endless void,
Leaving a trail of shimmering color,
A patch of distant lands unveiled,
As though a small part of a cloth had been drawn back,
To reveal the truer world beyond.

The sleeper awakes, the cloth falls away,

And pristine, silent snow-covered hills and valleys
Roll endlessly away under the light of a multitude of stars.
The awakened being raises his head, his eyes seek the horizon.
With joy in his face he bears up his countenance to the stars
And laughs, long and loud, in awe of the fruit of the mother darkness.
For now, after all his searching and striving,
He sees the world as the stars see it,
Free and true, unbound by illusion and unchained by fear.

And the stars look down, and take joy also;
For long after this bright, awakened being has drifted on,
Into the void that is his origin and destiny,
His name will be shaped into the hills and valleys of this silent, peaceful place,
And the stars will still look upon his mighty canvas,
And shine down upon the works and dreams of men.