Some say heaven is different for each of us.
Some say heaven is within, to some it is only part of a cycle of rebirth.
Someone I loved thought we become stars when we die, that we become a part of the cosmos, not necessarily sentient.
Sometimes I think heaven is love and lessons learned which might explain how, even when we’re good, we so often get burned.
Heaven is a dream to which we aspire, maybe heaven is in the art we produce or an invisible choir.
They say in heaven we have wings and the ability to fly, the gravity that locks us down just disappears.
Some say angels are people who have died, they know our sorrows and our broken pride.
We look up to heaven as if it is something we can create, even with our earthly ways, that to create is to mimic god and the steps we take with our behavior is what seals our fate.
Flaws are a fundamental part of what we are and what our existence communicates. Although we are not perfect, we are an endless stream of knowing, learning, denying and making, even of religion itself.
The breeze cleanses our spirit, the shimmering water brings us closer to nirvana and the solid earth is where we stand.
Sometimes we look up to see something not visible to the naked eye and wonder, would knowing there is a heaven release us from bad intentions and inspire awe?
Would we behave like pirates, obsessed with what we could use or what we could plunder? Heaven is an oasis to a thirsty man lost in the desert.
We have glimpsed it so many times but don’t know what we see, we fail to know the difference between fantasy and reality.
We can’t prove it and we have no choice but to let it be a mystery, a performance staged in our spirituality.
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