I suppose I’m heaven bound – if there is a heaven
–
whether by effort or worthiness,
by longing or faith or by divine intervention.
Utter mortality I can vaguely imagine,
individual consciousness a bubble once burst
as if it never was, but I can’t quite fathom
a finite heaven, lost souls forever
hovering outside its gates.
I can’t quite imagine an existence
in perpetual limbo – not a path
to somewhere,
reward or not,
though I grant you, all things are possible
beyond the limits of my inadequate imaginings.
I can’t be wrong, of course, because
I don’t know enough to be wrong or right.
So I wait, idly contemplate, sing and shudder
according to mood, hoping each will be
deemed an expression of surrender.
O child of God, you are some kind of heaven bound
–
without knowing the least bit of truth about it.
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