The Sleeping Giant

When a man dreams his mind a ferry
Burden lightly lest it sink.
For how much can one mind carry,
How much can one mind think?

When a Giant sleeps his mind the sea
Too far to sail too deep to drink.
And from it born a giant’s dream
That from nothingness does blink.

The dream world was lush and vibrant
a garden of heaven not seen on earth.
A world with no hate nor greed nor tyrants
nor evil that would claim its worth.

The giant dreamed of men and they were found
As dreams often chance on life.
The sacred silence broken by the sound
Of the men that the world was rife.

“Where are we?” they asked.
and no answer came.
“What our reason? What our task?
What ourselves to name?”

No laws inside nor will to bind
They lived free and content.
They were blind to the Giants mind
That held the whole event.

Even in dreams men are afraid
To be the only ones awake.
It was with relief they paid
He who called the world a fake.

“A dream's a dream and nothing more!”
said one man to the rest.
“It seems it means this life is for
Nothing but nothing but nothing, unless!
We escape this world of illusions
and greet reality on the other side.
It seems i’ve seen the only conclusion
And so I will lead you as your guide.”

“Tell us what to do!”
“Tell us what to think!”
“We know not what we knew!”
“We know not where our link!”

“To do? We must make the Giant laugh
And wake him from his sleep.
To think? What good’s that path?
We must make a wild leap.

To know? What good is knowing?
In a world where nothing’s real.
Our link? The Giant who's mind kept growing
Until ‘twas large enough to have us sealed.

Wake the Giant and we’re free
From this world of illusory.
Out we’ll go and you will see
Out there is the real reality.”

And so the men set about their task
To make the Giant laugh
They put on funny clothes and masks
And each took their turn to chaff.

The Giant watched from slumber
And snorted to see such a sight.
But despite the countless number
Of funny things he still slept tight.

Again the Guide led his people
To make fools of themselves
They built up great steeples
And spoke to figures on the shelves.

Again the Giant chortled in his sleep,
As was promised by the guide.
But awaken not, his dreams did keep
Them locked away inside.

“What sleeper wakes from pleasant dreams?”
asked one disciple of the rest.
“What keeper flees a merry theme
That the night before him blessed?
If we’re to wake the giant,
If we’re to give him start,
We must try to be defiant
And scare his giant heart.”

“Foolish man! Let me clarify,” from the guide upset.
“He’s our world and you’d terrify? To wake in a cold sweat?
No! He must wake gently so the morning may bring peace.
No! Listen to me intently, your foolish words must cease.”

The disciple turned away,
A nightmare in his head.
Had he been led astray?
To preach the way of dread?

He called for all unseemly creatures
To crawl from below the ground.
They rose up with the calling preacher
With slithering leaps and bounds.

Giant snakes with poison fangs,
and wolves with snarling maws,
Bats from the trees did hang
And beasts with fearsome claws.

The giant moaned in his bed,
And shook from head to his toes.
Trembling on terror fed
And the world was caught in throes.

“Look at how he quakes around!”
The disciple laughed with glee.
“Let the power of shakes astound
with promises that we’ll be free.”

The Guide drew his blade
To stop the madness that had begun.
“Do you think that would sway
me from my work that needs done?”

To the Guide’s eternal horror
The disciple drew a knife out his belt.
He took the blade and score her
The blow into his own body dealt.

“Come, raise your steel against me.”
The disciple grinned through pain.
“If we fought, would not our fight be
Adding to the nightmare game?”

It was true, would could he do?

To fight would worsen the plight.
“If I slew, the dream would accrue
More blight than could be borne tonight.”

A boy stepped forth, amidst the duel,
Among the wild beasts and snarling.
“I might speak, though I sound the fool,
Why are the two of you quarreling?

If the guide has his way the Giant wakes
And so too with the path of the other.
But what if both ways are mistakes?
What if the way was the way of another?

Let the giant sleep, and in sleeping dream
For what if his dream is all there is?
For what if up he leaps, in his eye a gleam
and nothing more remains than this?

Give me the life I know is here
Over a thousand that may not be.
Leave the giant still a thousand years
For in this garden we are free.”

At this at last the Giant laughs.
To see the boy so brave.
To stand while all the plots and crafts
Of the other men did rave.

He laughed so hard and so long
That the world ripped apart at its seams
To think that the boy alone belonged
In this wonderful whimsical dream.

Then snorted breath and opened eyes
The giant rose to wake.
From his mind the memory flies
From his memory the dream forsakes.

And all that now remains of them
A gleam in the Giant’s eye.
Shining brightly as a gem
Remain all their little lives.

But when he lays his head once more
And slumbers once more at night,
What new world and yonder shore
Will ask itself who's right?