Dreams of Heaven

Oh, let this tired flesh
Melt into oblivion
And let my spirits soar
Into this promised world
Of heavenly delights
Which preachers painted
For some living fools
To keep their sinecure,
Perchance, they had a vision
Of some distant truths
Which we, poor mortals,
Never chanced to know,
Far, far beyond our present ken,
Where gods reside
And mortals share their revenue
In some hoped for bliss
In a dimension
Which seems but never is...

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2007 Alfred Charasz