Heaven

The belief of a Heaven is simply indulgent,
(Indulge we do, eternally optimistic),
And if Angelo himself could recreate unknown,
Of angels and clouds that the wind has not blown,
And the passion and splendor and gates held wide open,
The welcoming presence and thanks always spoken,
I wonder, I muse and I see fit to comfort,
The way life- never fit to be worshiped with trumpet.

"I want not a God, but for Heaven 'Amen'",
"Those don't believe are Beezelbubs men",
"I believe out of fear",
"I believe for no reason",
"Heaven's like Paris in wintery season".
We deserve not a thing when our life sells us short,
I admit, I indulge with my cynical thought.

Heaven, for me, is a place without limits,
The sky is our earth and the water, we skim it,
I exist by myself because need is not wanting,
I exist of the thousands of years of exhaulting.
I believe because what else is there to believe in?
Lying dead in the dirt without guilt, without sin,
The alternative is such a happier thing,
And makes us believe that with death, we can win.

And I?  I who dare to play fire with fire,
I dream that the poor will be turned in squires,
And the hungry will feast, and the lame stand up tall,
And the suffering of ages will end for us all.
And the people I've lost shall be waiting and smiling,
The anger and pain all at once turned beguilling,
And we'll vanish, content, no regret, passed this test,
Because it's really not too much to ask for a rest.

And really, it's the least we're owed for some of the bullshit we put up with in this world.
So, Heaven, here we come.