I love the picture. Good information, we only have our faith in God and us being the vessel. Over the centuries man does what man does: mixes things up for power.
The concept of heaven gets tossed around in our society so much that it has lost much of its meaning. When I originally wrote the piece for the book I was trying to understand how my own NDE fit into my life with all the conflicting ideas floating around in the world. So I tried to make a point with the astronaut comment. I took the risk that the hyperbole might cause some to be angry at a perceived sacrilege yet the intention was to break up stagnant thought forms and promote new understanding. Which is the point of the book.
I love the picture. Good information, we only have our faith in God and us being the vessel. Over the centuries man does what man does: mixes things up for power.
The concept of heaven gets tossed around in our society so much that it has lost much of its meaning. When I originally wrote the piece for the book I was trying to understand how my own NDE fit into my life with all the conflicting ideas floating around in the world. So I tried to make a point with the astronaut comment. I took the risk that the hyperbole might cause some to be angry at a perceived sacrilege yet the intention was to break up stagnant thought forms and promote new understanding. Which is the point of the book.
Heaven
Suppose when we die,
Our soul lives on,
a ghost, a spectral form of our life’s travels.
This soul, this spirit of our essence,
Settles into a dimension we call heaven.
There’s no punishment for evil deeds.
No frowning God sitting on a throne,
Omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient,
Passing judgment on our jealousies, gluttony, and misadventures.
Instead we’ll inhabit a situation of our happiest desires.
I’ll live in a tidy cottage,
A comfortable hobbit hole
Underneath a huge tree
Where songbirds serenade my days
And coo me to sleep at night.
I’ll have a garden of kaleidoscopic flowers
releasing alluring aromas on gentle breezes.
Occasionally I’ll have visitors:
My parents, vital in health,
my children, mature and happy,
and the little grandbaby, laughing
when I’d play with him on the floor.
My goose-feather bed,
Will contour perfectly to my ever-strong body
For a short nap, or just contemplation.
With my dog at my side, licking my hand,
We’ll take walks in the perfect day,
Sunshine glistening on the lake,
Deer coming up to nuzzle
The nuts I brought to feed them.
In the evening, I’ll sit at my desk
A glass of sweet wine at my fingertips,
My favorite books by my side
And on fresh white paper
I’ll compose poetry.
Your poem puts my scribbling to shame. Thanks for posting it.
Nah. We all have our own style. I've been reading your missives. They're powerful, impactful.
I do try to stay positive. It ain’t easy.