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The Sleeping God by May SartonHigh in Nepal, the lock sprang at last:
There Vishnu lies entranced upon his pool,
And there I was touched deeply and held fast,
Was dreamed and delved, each nerve put to school,
Dreamed by his fertilizing power at rest
While anguish flowed away under his rule.
God, flower-fragile, open to the least,
Naked to every pulse of air and light,
More vulnerable in fact than any beast,
Young man relaxed in beauty, and so slight
He seems to float upon his dangerous sleep,
Daring to dream, exposed to the daylight.
He lies there on the coil, massive loop
Of the eternal snake, a sovereign
Disarmed, without a wall, without a keep,
And renews all within his fertile reign,
And so, become the master of all space,
Is pure creation that can know no pain.
I saw him, naked, as a holy place,
A human Heaven which had learned to float
The universe upon a sleeping face.
And I, the Western one, was lost in thought,
Felt the lock spring, demons fly out,
And, all cracked open as the image caught,
Knew I was dreamed back to some ancient school
Where we are field within a single rule:
True power is given to the vulnerable.