*“Up above my head
I hear music in the air
I really do believe
I really do believe
there's a Heaven somewhere”*
--Rhiannon Giddens
*“Is that all there is?”
--Peggy Lee*
An old philosopher told me this:
“About heaven.
Let’s say there’s more than one.
There’s the one where souls
are lurid with perfection,
piled into bliss,
dreaming of change.
“There’s the one people search for
to fit the story they tell themselves.
I looked for it. I watched the sky.
I found only words. Blue sky is
a blank page. Clouds are garish metaphors.
“Then there’s one that follows you.
Don’t look for it. You can’t find it.
It’s not a place or a path.
It dances at the edge of things
like old photos or a young face
that lives remembered in its older one,
an eternal moment always at hand
trailing like a thought balloon,
a shadow cast by nothing,
forever unfolding, never now.”
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
*“Up above my head
I hear music in the air
I really do believe
I really do believe
there's a Heaven somewhere”*
--Rhiannon Giddens
*“Is that all there is?”
--Peggy Lee*
An old philosopher told me this:
“About heaven.
Let’s say there’s more than one.
There’s the one where souls
are lurid with perfection,
piled into bliss,
dreaming of change.
“There’s the one people search for
to fit the story they tell themselves.
I looked for it. I watched the sky.
I found only words. Blue sky is
a blank page. Clouds are garish metaphors.
“Then there’s one that follows you.
Don’t look for it. You can’t find it.
It’s not a place or a path.
It dances at the edge of things
like old photos or a young face
that lives remembered in its older one,
an eternal moment always at hand
trailing like a thought balloon,
a shadow cast by nothing,
forever unfolding, never now.”
