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Somewhere it appears
Beyond the thought of man
Can only imaginarily described
“As” and “like” the qualifying words
Of this heaven that be.
A golden sanded soil of mirrored look
With silver coated glasses
That reflect the light from self
Direct from the builder’s body
A hope for every bettering.
Your condusive aroma calls
For more concentration unto you
A living place with every lively smile
Habouring fine little little beings
That chant unto Him forever.
A where virtues overflow
And vices are the far past-then
Where accumulation is only on the good
And prayers are enjoyment
As the holy little little things fall to praise.
Marching straight of diamond
Incensing the all in all or what have you
Where he imaginatively said to sit
And perceives the scent of flowering
Creatures that beseech him forever.
The earth cries to stay there
All humans hope to come and live
With their maker at different lasts
Wonder how the place will turn to be
With the failures of this earthly life.
Won’t man steal the golden sand to sell
Or have erotic affairs with the angels
Even trying to impeach or overthrow God
Or even increase the vices or prices of things
With this his eathly bow-eyes.
Can’t I suggest for another place
For the people of better ways
To avoid introducing confusion to the innocents
Because the trait I think is there
Lest embarrassment be brought to heaven.
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