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Poem

Take a moment, think—
If there's a place we came from,
mustn't there be a place we're going to?
A river with a source
must have a mouth to truly be a river—
else, it’s a lake.
So too, a life that has a start
must also find its end
to rightly be called a life.

But surely, something must dwell in life
for it to truly be life at all—
and that thing must be drawn from it
for life to no longer be life.
That essence–our souls…
is what gives us the likeness of God:
a mirror
reflecting the world—and ourselves.
An incandescent breath,
blowing in the wind
without quenching,
guiding us on a path:
from heaven,
and back to heaven—
a city of holiness...
of natural beauty, abundance, and harmony~
the real Garden of Eden. 

Heaven—
the place where God lives as a sculptor,
to sculpt our souls in His likeness,
to mould the bodies of men, birds, beasts,
phantoms and the smallest unseen...
into delicate beings—
who think and unthink,
who love and unlove,
lives, dies and are 
forgotten or remembered. 

A place lost on radar but real in space~
where angels fly with wings 
and sing as spirits...
waiting to be assigned by our beck and call.
A place where meals mean not a great deal 
for survival,
A place whose realness is true,
but can only be felt–not fully seen—
until our souls return back home.

But it exists.








Contest: Heaven Is For Real
Contest sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Contest judged: June 21st, 2025 2:18:00 AM
Placement: Second

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