As human beings, we experience illusion,
but our goal is to become infinite.
Enlightenment is the path to become one with God.
Life, as we live it, is a joke of sorts.
Love is, often unconsciously, our ultimate destination.
Each of us has a soul, and if it is saturated with love
when we die, we really do not die;  rather,
our souls meld with God. To call worldly things
is not meant to be a pejorative. It's just that the vast
majority of us live false lives. What most of us call Heaven
is actually when are our souls are filled with love.
If we are "marterialized," which is  to say, we hunger
for wealth, fame, or power--not to empower others,
but to oppress them--then we do die and our souls
return to Earth hopefully to realize what our real
goal is. Buddha and Christ, for example, came to know
this and lived their lives accordingly. When one realizes
her/his soul is swollen with love, she/he knows
intuitively, she/he will meld with the invisible,
never-ending, always present love of God, never
needing to be smothered with the stench or wars,
the paucity of kindness, the endless pain of iniquities.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

What's the most unrealistic American pirates
Are prepared to spend on an audiology check up?
A buck an ear.

Sometimes
I do it immediate
Unthinking and smooth
Like a YouTube vid
Of well practised worker
Droned out in his groove
Others it quite pathetic
A full ten minute production
Am i teasing it the right way
Rub
Pull
Blow
Even desperately applying suction.

I had a dream.
I don’t remember most dreams.

I was cleaning the floors of heaven.
It seemed a mixed blessing,
I was in heaven, after all
but I was cleaning the floors.

It was a part time job,
I knew that intuitively.
I don’t mind house cleaning, heaven cleaning.
It’s calm work, kind of Zen.
Are we supposed to think of religions in heaven?

At first I scrubbed on my hands and knees.
The floors are soft in heaven, like golden gym mats.
Then I thought of it, and suddenly I had a swiffer-wet mop,
just like that - and the pad never wore out.

After a while, I had an iPod, and AirPods too.
Then a daiquiri - a banana daiquiri with a pastel rainbow umbrella.
They make rapturous daiquiris in the hereafter - they never run out.
‘Heavenly,’ I thought, snorting out a dizzy laugh.
.
.
Songs for this:
The River of Dreams Billy Joel
If the Lord Wasn't Walking By My Side by Elvis Presley

The mocking bird stands careful
Atop the cactus
in the heat
It drops its load
And flys off
It's yearly part in this complete
The droppings contain
A parasitic mistletoe seed
At night comes forth a tendril
When the host begins to breathe
It slowly wends its way in
Deep into the flesh
Reliant on the moisture
In which it sweetly rests
It's sits there near a Calendar
Then bursts out
In a Blossom
Of blood crimson red
Humming birds drink of its nectar
The cactus half near dead
Then at last the mistletoe
Bears its fruit
And the Mocking bird returns
To feast the cycle off once more
It's nutrition duly earned