Heaven Poem by Jonzo Bandwagoner

In my travels,
I asked a scholar,
'What is heaven like? '
He answered, gladly,
'Heaven is a cumulous cloud,
Boring; unpleasant; a drab! '
I thanked the man, but thought
To myself: 'Heaven must be
different than that.'
So I walked on.

And in my travels,
I asked a businessman,
'What is heaven like? '
He answered, quickly,
'Heaven is a real estate auction;
Only the richest buyers get in.'
I thanked the man, but it
Arose again: 'Heaven must be
different than that.'
So I traveled on.

And on in my travels,
I asked an Epicurean,
'What is heaven like? '
He answered, slowly,
'I've never given much time to
questions like that; who cares despite? '
I thanked the man, but I
Thought within: 'Truth is always
worth seeking out.'
So I sought on.

And I shouted it out!
I challenged the sky,
'What is heaven like? '
Though no answer greeted me.
'I figured as much! ' shaking my head,
'Can anyone answer my cry? '
So I sat myself down, and there,
I faded. No nighttime ever
seemed darker than that.
And so I gave up.

Hours of dreamy sleep;
I awoke with a tap on the shoulder.
'I can tell you what heaven is like.'
I fast spun around, thinking,
'At last! One who can answer this plea! '
A little child stood near my feet.
'Heaven is like the world this was
always intended to be. No tears.
Believe.'

I was all alone, suddenly,
But I got to my feet,
Going back to the scholar,
The businessman, the pleasurable,
And I said,
'Believe.'