Shocked

Fifty thousand volts couldn't wake him.

Climbing back, through gaps in stone,
where water barely trickled,
to a cascade of freshness, white spray,
down further,
the running rapid racing,
the painful cold snapping and numbing
skins suffocating a feeling.

On the banks, a relative milennia on,
a man awakens under a tree,
by a leaf spinning to its end from above.
He has dreamt of a journey,
ending in wakefulness.