Slept Through Enlightenment

The meditation sit
was a worn-out fight
with afternoon fatigue,
in a few mere minutes
the bowed head persevered,
became my plight.

Nodding right off,
I slept,
I dozed,
chin hit chest
more than once.

My neck slipped from
its erect pier
in the sea of consciousness
and began to bob
like a marionette afloat
on a stream of thought
at a Buddhist retreat,
or unmoored satellite
lost in inner space.

Esconced in the moment
and place of here
within power of now
staring right at
your white and bright
computer screen,
you might read my attempt
to write this more or less
accurate account
of a slept-right-through
spiritual unawakening
in the torpid temple,
the clogged cathedral
of my fog-filled brain
and over-tired body
where was undertaken
a not too mindful,
yet well intended,
contemplative orchestration.