We hear the wail of sirens.
We hear the whistling of birds.
Reality is in a constant state of bloom.
The dead see us (if that is what they want,
if that is what they choose).
But then there are so many things to see.
There are dazzling vistas,
white clouds, and blue moons.
There are ocean views
no one can ever own.
Heaven is not a place or a palace
but a state of being.
There are signs but no maps.
The dead often see us at our worst.
They sense our sorrow.
They see a world of warring shadows.
They are our mothers and fathers
and want so much more for us.
They are in the light.
We are in the dark.
No comments:
Post a Comment