When did heaven become...like some grand lottery?
Something only the most righteous, pious and blemish-free fortunate souls deserve as an ultimate home?
When did having faith and an imagination for something greater, require entry in a sweepstakes akin to getting into Wonka's Chocolate Factory?
Something only the most righteous, pious and blemish-free fortunate souls deserve as an ultimate home?
When did having faith and an imagination for something greater, require entry in a sweepstakes akin to getting into Wonka's Chocolate Factory?
Heaven will
never be
what you expect
it to be
Heaven can
only be
what we conceive
in our dreams
What we perceive
deep in a translucent
transcendental, luminescent
ever-present and
element-sent sleep-
yet if 1 in 3 don't believe
in God, Jesus or
some sheperd of
lost sheep, no Allah,
Jehovah, Shivah nor
really any deity
how can they
ever achieve
true amity?
Doubters would plead:
the afterlife's just an
elaborately crafted
church-conjured, and
fear inducing scheme
forcing the masses
to attend mass & service,
and confess to a priest,
pay them offerings, or be
the ones wielding the power
in God-fearing pagan
communities...
But can't you see-
It takes not the rifle or knife to
make a wise man leak,
all you need is signs for
a blood drive, to make
his heart unleash tides
unto the crimson donor sea,
he is living charity
think again, we don't
need temples, religion
or overseeing Papacy
to reach the palace
of immortal kings
En la Cidade de Deus
do we reach Nirvana
reincarnate in form of
some DHARMA shark
or a mystic chakra
to deliver us from
harfmul karma
it's not reliant on some
pious or compliant
divine philosophy
it exists in
you and me
that other realm
we tapped into
before this earth below
befouled and tainted
our sacred, pristine
innocent infant feet
we came from it,
it came before us-
so someday, we must
return the deed,
just as mature trees
create, sprout, spread and
disperse seeds
we'll ride the wind
just the same as them
when we inevitably
leave
When you no longer breathe,
does it mean you're deceased?
Or simply living without boundary
land, law, or bodily;
omnisicient floating harmony
No sacred chapels
up in sky, no gold-lined
sidewalks for you to sweep
or harp-plucking, winged
cherubic baby angels
to welcome you to
Galilee
It doesn't need to be
about idyls you don't
kneel before
or the prophet you can't see
all heaven can ever be
is the completion you seek
Is there some
courtroom
for judgment day,
a list with all those who
sinned past point of
repentance or covenance
a judge's chair with
a sandaled glowing man
but you never feel his
hand or see his face?
Is this the place?
Heaven is not the seat
where 'they' judge 'we'
or the strong imprison
the meek, throwing you
to fire and brimstone
condeming all for
long-ago atrocities-
no "lock them up in hell,
throw away the key"
It's more like a
'get out of jail free'
a ticket to resurface clean,
once submerged in a
turbulent sea, and left
their Earthly body back
awash on the beach.
Is there a place for a
civil agreement or treaty,
where good and evil are
not met with enmity
absolutely no war
or displaced animosity
erase sense of race, class,
we start from scratch
embracing differences
each dispute is machine-gun
pelted with pellets of
peace- all hate
would cease, communicate
through translations of
any language, everyone
speaks one universal code
eased by knowing here
we're all home
So says the Nicene Creed:
"We look for the resurrection
of the dead, and the life
of the world to come"
so if we dream of pitch
black stars in light, would
the conga-beat of drums
surpass the moon's fall on
the path of lunar greatness,
surely not- so don't race
the fate of the grave, we're
all assured its touch someday
just rest assured, that once
it comes- we make our own
way into this terrestrial
forever soaring safe-gate
It's where playlists of all
our favorite songs
reside on repeat
best meal we'd ever
hope to feast, is everyday eats
and our most unattainable
goal is the one we tackle
because the fear of failing
died with our pulse-
and no gravity could ever
knock us off our feet.
Where my mother will
run at full speed, her amber
hair a red torch behind her,
barreling into me with small arms
rapturing giant hugs-
the kind I've been missing
most of my life,
I lift her up, giving at least
202 sequential kisses on the cheek,
she introduces me
to her first love
although before, we did meet
in life before this-
we barely had the
chance to speak
She'll catch me up on what
she's reading, some favorite
places to eat, the best bars
clubs and all the concert halls-
"Maybe we'll see us a show
or two, later this week..."
Grab a pizza, sit together,
watch whatever's on TV- just
laugh & bullshit as she recalls
memories, bragging as she shows
me her John Lennon auto-graphed
Beatles' vinyl copy 'Let it Be'
then, finally I'll watch triumphantly
she swims with her Dolphins-
sunrise beneath; yet here,
no moment ends, unless
we want it to cease...
this is heaven to me.
Is it across the Universe
or beyond the stars we've searched
is it logical or beyond our compass
astronomical atlas
is it humanly possible
to conceive how inter-channel
spirit travel works?
Paradise is not some high-blown,
far off kingdom we can never reach,
only if we here on Earth were to have
lived life perfectly
for we all sin,
we all falter
we all bleed
we all need reason to believe
that
Heaven
is a place
that we
can all dream.
(c) Paul LaTorre 2010
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