Weather In Heaven

I am the part of God
who strolls in a garden rejecting motion
and all that is outside the garden,
as cherub statues only look away,
only look outside
for flowers that bloom elsewhere,
flowers to pluck and place
in their stone hard hair
while they pretend to be
anything other than indifferent.

I am the part of God
trying to figure Himself out
as He walks his lonely stone path
up His dry, brittle steps,
each worn sandal seemingly perfect
as they grip the rough edge
of each weathered stair
growing moss and resentment
while only not being ignored
when being stepped on.

I am the part of God
entering a bedroom without a bed,
decorated without a woman’s touch
or even a passing thought
of having a cave
with all the sadistic comforts
home can never provide
or think to contain
or feel is needed
when considering wishes to fulfill.

I am the part of God
who stretches out His vision,
gazing upon Heaven from the outside
while realizing
that neither is He in Hell.

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4 thoughts on “Weather In Heaven

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