Waking Dream of a Young Poet

A young poet’s stormy soul
Careened into a chasm,
Down, down, he tumbled still–
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 scout the dusky land:
A rough surface rising up,
He climbed it hand o’er hand.
While a speck of white, high above,
Like a star, glisten’d so grand.

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