Waking Dream of a Young Poet

A young poet’s stormy soul
Careened into a chasm;
Down, down, he tumbled further–
How far he couldn’t fathom…
‘Til he landed with a bump
And felt the whole Earth spasm.

In some deep, ancient crevice
That existed in his mind–
Where no light penetrated–
In this place he was confined.
No one heard his cries for help,
To his pain the world was blind.

Wandering in darkness,
To map the lay of land;
A rough surface rising up,
He climbed it hand o’er hand.
To spot a dot of white light
Like a star glisten so grand.

With Herculean effort,
He ascended towards the star–
‘Til white light was blue sky:
Back home–he had traveled far.
The young poet awoke from his dream,
Thinking: ‘how very bizarre…’