Sleeping In His Meadows

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.