Meditation on Heaven

Remember heaven will be even better than this:

I walk down the forest path, as the trees are in their mid fruit.
Every tree, and many varieties of them, bear their fruits.
Heavenly scents of the flowers and tree barks perfume the air.
The dust is gold, with rocks of Unakite, Pink Howlite, Turquoise
Coral, Carnelian, Amethyst and Jade.
Boulders, in their unpolished form spring up;
The tree's bark is textured, like a bark
With their variegated shaped leaves
Deep rooted in the golddust. The bells, and pears, 
And shapes of the fruit, growing from the shrubs
And wildflowers, and the grasses made into bread;
Many colors, as the insects fly--every insect
Killed by a Christian comes to Heaven---
And they glow as fireflies, and are harmless
With prisms upon their bellies;
And each makes a distinct honey, from the least to the greatest
Which the kine that feed upon the heavenly grains, 
All different manner, which men had slaughtered for the holy offerings
Or had eaten--every beef a Christian ate, comes to heaven too--
And there they feed upon the grass, and make milk
For all animals, from the reptile to the bird to the dog,
Make milk, and they make heavenly milks for cheeses
And holy drink, and mixed with honey, it is decadent.
I go through the woods, and find
The river of God, and behind me is Mount Zion
Sprawling 12,000 furlongs tall,
As high as the distance from Earth to the Moon;
It is a pearlescent Gold, of Red and Green
Like Jasper Stone, the ancient rocks tall
Bending inward where I would stand upon the waters.
A bridge, likenened of the path goes over
With trees planted atop it---like in Germany---
And so I walk over the forested path, surrounded by trees and the oceanic rivers
And I walk for days--which feel like minutes for I am so old--
And I come upon a house, with triangular architecture
Born from wood made from the Tree of Life---
As durable as Iron---and the gems like the rock
And boulders around her house, are as strong as Brass.
Unbreakable, and I open the door, and there,
See the waterfalls of my Mimi's house,
And the onyx and marble tiles, and the inlaid
Roof buttressed and painted by Michelangelo.
I walk into her room, and she descends the stairs
Smiling, and in her dawning raiment
Of her most precious righteousness---
Like being at her house as a child, the warmth and kindness
And love that surrounded her then, I feel it there
Which is only made by God's Holy Blessing--
And she dawns it, in such radiant colors I can't even describe.
She descends the staircase from her kitchen,
And we embrace, and my Hephzibah is there beside me
As the two speak on issues of Heavenly Politics--
Which are the joys of the Saints, and the carols sung
And the great carnivals:: and sorceries defeated on Earth.