He sleeps in the meadows
                       on a pillow made of flowers
Arc-Angel voices are heard
              from afar
A gentle wind
                  blows softly
                             at the nape of His neck.  
               Is he sleeping or dreaming ?
                                I don't know, but I feel Him on my skin.  
He created the world
                      in seven days
His garment is made of sackcloth              and camel hair
The scars in his hands
                    have healed beautifully
from the salve of His father's loving hands....
He sleeps in the meadows
                                      like a warrior King of old
who has just saved the world from a great disaster.  
Holding back floods, earthquakes, gunfires, wars
                                  he leaves behind the scent of flowers
where there once was hunger,
                  people aren't hungry anymore.
He feeds me honey from the shackles of my
                                     fraying soul,
as I fall asleep next to him,
                           soundly,  
                       like a child, who could never ask for more.