He is alone, sleeping. Sleeping on his side. With his hands together. Like he is praying. His cheek rests on his praying hands. His legs are folded backwards; knees together. Asleep. Yes, asleep.
Asleep, or possibly dead. Possibly alive. You cannot tell. Although if you look closely you can see him breathe. Yet breathing ever so slightly. Breath. Yes, someone else's breath. He's breathing someone else's breath, someone else's life.
Dead or alive; with breath or with someone else's breath - either way he is unconscious. Deeply unconscious. If he wakes shall he remember?
How long has he been like this? No one can say. He is alone. No one was there when he went under. No one knows. A mystery man asleep. Half dead; or half alive.
That look on his face. It is so concerned. Yet so peaceful. Did he wince when he fell into unconscious peace? Perhaps he is pondering in his sleep? Is he dreaming? What if he is awake but trapped in a body of sleep?
If you watch closely you will see that his face is that of an angel. Perhaps he is dreaming of angels. Perhaps he is Jacob dreaming at Bethel. Perhaps he is communicating with angels while he sleeps. Perhaps he is passing from life to death and then back to life.
Why here? Why is he lying here in this meadow. So fair a meadow the world has aught seen. If you were going to sleep, or die, it would be in this meadow. It is unspoiled. Creation is not yet spoiled here.
The brook. He is sleeping - or dying - near the brook. A bubbling brook. Water like champagne. The joyful green of the meadow and the silver exuberance of the brook. Like wedding colours.
There was a prophecy about the brook. One would drink from the brook. Can he drink? When he wakes he will drink. If he wakes. If he wakes he will wake to the fairest meadow known. And then he will drink from the way.
He was placed here. He did not choose to lie down to sleep (die) by the brook. It was not his choice. There are footprints in the meadow. One has been walking the meadow. Who is this one? One leaping over the mountains, skipping upon the hills. One striding the meadow.
Footprints lead to the brook, then footprints leave from the place where his body is lying. He was left here. He was carried by the one who treads the meadows. When the day broke and when the shadows fled, that is when he was left to sleep by the brook. He is left in a meadow of spices.
And his side. His side is bloodied. There is blood. Blood like the red wax of a seal. Congealed. His chest. His chest is closed up. A mark of blood. A seal of blood. Love is as strong as death. Jealousy is as cruel as the grave.
The one who treads the meadows carried his lifeless body and placed him near the brook. The one who came over the mountains closed up his bleeding side and left him to recover at the brook. The brook that splashes has life-giving water. The one who placed him there breathed into him and washed his wound with the water.
Then he left him there. He took the bone from him. Then left him there. He left the blood as a mark of his.
He will return. It is his nature to return. Sleep child. Do not stir. You shall have no part in this. It is something only he can do. He will take the bone, the bone from his side, and he will return with something better. She will come with him.
Yes, she will come with him. When he wakes he will be married. He will be granted union by him who treads the mountains, treads the meadows. He will wake him with water from the brook. He will unify them.
They will drink from the brook. As man and woman they will drink. Many waters cannot quench love. Rivers cannot sweep it away. He cannot give anything for this love - it would be utterly scorned. Only the one who treads the meadows can give love.
It is his love to give to the man and to the woman. It is from him. It is his way of loving the man with the woman. And it is his way of loving the woman with the man. He cannot be separated from the man and the woman. His love becomes their love. Their breath is not their own. It is his. He gave them breath. They use his breath. He gave them love. They pass on his love.
Love in a meadow belongs to him. To him who treads the meadows fair.
Now, now the sleeping man must sleep. Hush.
Safely lay your head and close out all your fear. Rest on your bed, there are no shadows and he is near. Softly dream your prayers and ride the breath of sleep. Float up Jacob's stairs; dance with angels who keep. Ease your eyes, the meadow is yours to dwell. Drift in dreamy, cloudy skies; you are safe from the assaults of hell. Gently dream; hush your worries here and far. Adam, know that the place you trust is in the hands of God.
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