Heaven Part Two Poem by mark anthony st. rose

His faith bid the gate of heaven,
and the compassion of the Gods above,
who laid in their impassive, idyllic, still, serene,
but still ever receptive to his sincere cries.
Impelled a love movement of spiritual design,
it was like guardian angels escorted his side,
bearers of a light and love that never fail;
bearers of the cryptic word that all things made.
And in silence they commanded his floating steps,
his thoughts raptured were led there to meet
the divine king, the Queen of the spirit's sovereign domain.
There love was eternal and peace reigned supreme,
and the skies rained with a golden glory.
Nothing there feigned, but all was true and pure.
A real real, reality's real self.
It seemed the self that assumed the basis,
of all things made even artificial extensions,
even illusions that danced perpetually with Maya,
even man himself and the reign of vain thought,
even our dreams in a created world that seem so real.
But this reality was different, deep, profound,
it was like breathing in the air of truth's abyss.





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