What Is Heaven Like
What is heaven like?
This question, framing heaven to the eye,
leads inquirer’s mind astray.
But why?
No,
heaven’s please is not the place,
not multiplied terrestrial joys, celestial virgins,
girls and boys to serve reclining quests,
unending muse and harpist plays,
and minions there to serve the best with sweetest vintage wine
in golden mansioned airy rests.
As if touch and sight and sound and taste
could satisfy the soul.
Yes,
the glassy sea is still.
No more restless pounding of the shore
no ebb and flow of cleansing tide,
no storm disturbs still beating hearts.
The glass no longer dark is clean to see inside,
and to be seen.
It’s not the place that makes for heaven’s rest
but who is dwelling there.
Remember one soul’s final words?
‘Lord, please remember me.’
Not the saint or sainted life but thief's last anguished cry.
And what was our I AM’s reply?
‘Truly you will be with me, with ME
in Paradise.’
Heaven’s rest is where He is, no other place besides.
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