There is nothing in heaven
Only stars and burned out memories of what once blazed
In a cold vacuum
Harps and clouds and pearly gates and legions of angels
Are only the hopes that we should not be extinguished
That somehow we have earned the right to live beyond our years
This life is all that we shall ever have
Every touch is precious
Each tasting a marvel
All colors merge during death into gray
Yet the hues of red and yellow and blue
Merge to make all the other colors
Before turning black
Enjoy the moment we realize there is beauty in everything
Even the ugly and bizarre are made beautiful
In hidden ways
As long as we breathe we can see it
But few who live are really alive
Fools see only themselves glorified in heaven
YOU ARE READING
I See Through
PoetryPoetic musings of Barry Tudor on life and introspection. A journey of a motorcycling American poet lost in the midst of his own country. Hellish past. Glorious present.
