Upon My Dream of Heaven

Upon my dream of Heaven

Did I watch the world burn.

In bright flame my lives went,

All possession and memory,

Taken by the dream of tomorrow.

 

But tomorrow I keep in mind.

Tomorrow remains in my soul.

The ashes of my yesterday,

Cannot dictate my today.

They only remind me of inferiority.

 

The ashes flew higher in the sky,

Gathering up together in the center.

I looked around, seeing nothing else.

So I wept for the loss of the world,

Cried for all which I once cherished.

 

I sat beside the pile of ash,

Awaiting my opportunity to burn.

But the fires waited at my feet,

Refusing to burn my heels.

Waiting for me to act with its gift.

 

I screamed out in anger at the flame,

As if anger would reverse the crime.

The flames did not heed my words,

For destruction never comes to listen,

Only to leave silent those it destroys.

 

I looked at my pile of ash,

Which held such sorrow and hate within,

But in the destruction, I saw anew,

I saw potential for beauty.

This is where I first began to dream of Heaven.

 

In the dream, I saw all men.

Not with their greed or hate,

But as men infused with love.

I saw everything which could be,

And all that ought to be.

 

Heaven was not bright, as I once thought-

Not so heavenly or beyond grasp.

It looked very much like my past,

But with only a few changes,

All of which concerned us.

 

But the hope of this Heaven,

Resided within the ash lain at my side-

The burnt remains of a broken yesterday.

But I decided to let Heaven wait a moment longer,

So that I may stare the ash a while more.