He Slumbered Under the Willow

He slumbered under the willow
Like a child who’d frolicked too much.
Had his pursuits been overmuch?
Nature would be his best pillow.

Dreaming of an armadillo,
He felt new things coming about.
Indeed, this man was just blissed out,
And his heart pulsated, hard-pressed
By the memory of his own quest.
What was left on the path was doubt!

Then, he was falling,
Harder, deeper, and
He could not wake up!

Terror, helplessness,
Were nevertheless
Echoing there,
Where
His soul
Was whole.

He was falling still,
But he had self-will.

Soon, his feet would reach holy grounds.
He would step in the out-of-bounds.
He would become master of light,
And this dream would end as insight!

He would….

He slumbered under the willow
Like a child who’d frolicked too much.

©2007 Cendrine Marrouat


Cendrine’s work:

Book: Five Years and Counting. A Journey into the Mind of Soul Poetry

Spoken word CD: Rizen

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