The Gallery of Heaven

A rather odd piece I wrote... somewhere between a long poem and a short story, that tries to contrast the ideal world that can only exist in art and the world we inhabit.

  The two of them lay there under a vast sky, crowded with glimmering white orbs. The earth underneath them is black; the detail of the world around them has been consumed by the hunger of the dark. 

  The power is out and silence prevails over noise - all that can be heard, if you were to listen, would be the beating of their hearts... a beating which, if you were really observant, you'd notice matches the rhythm of the stars as they pulsate and burn.

  The metal that rusts and the wood that rots are lost in this cosmic mist that engulfs the couple. Objects, possessions are nothing and all that matters, all that ever really mattered are the things that live: the wind caressing their bodies; the stars, bright and jubilant; a moon which seems to gaze down at them, inquisitive and curious. 

  There is no separation now between the couple, the great expanse of space above and the stars that dwell there - everything is unified, everything is eternal, this moment cannot die. 

***

  Off in the distance, in some dimension they aren't inhabiting, there is evil and wickedness. Men brandish guns and drop bombs, trying to legitimise their base violence and their primitive desire to inflict pain by referencing civilisation. 

  And mothers cling to starving children in a world of bloated people claiming to be victims (perhaps some of them are). They cling to their starving children in a world where perfectly edible food is routinely thrown away.

  And then there are those who have to endure isolation, in this dimension. They have to endure being ostracised because of the way they choose to live their lives; there are those who are cursed, spat upon, ridiculed because of things beyond their control.

***

  But injustice and suffering are foreign, unheard of in our painted scene, this brush stroke paradise, situated in the gallery of heaven. Our couple have been crafted on a canvas where they can only know love and hope and wonder. The ink of their veins is devoid of malice and their psychology cannot comprehend greed or aggression. They linger, immortal, ghostly figures that will never age, hurt, crack, wrinkle. 

  What does the plaque below read?

  "LET THE LIGHTS GO OUT"