At The Pearly Gates Of Heaven

At The Pearly Gates Of Heaven
© Surazeus
2019 03 02

We see so many humorous cartoons 
that occur at the pearly gates of Heaven 
where the bearded man at the podium 
judges the worth of the person who died 
and seeks admission to that paradise 
as glorious light beams from the Glow Cloud 
where God shimmers in characterless bliss, 
but we never get past those shining gates. 

I always look on the bright side of life, 
because no matter how much I enjoy 
strange pleasures savored by this hungry body 
that generates ecstatic passions of love 
glowing bright with buzz of truth in my brain, 
I get to die at the end of my trip, 
exploring this world in grand epic quest 
to become conscious God of the Glow Cloud. 

Waking at dawn under the apple tree, 
I fill nine baskets with fruit of my heart, 
then heap them in wagon with turning wheels 
and walk winding road past fields of gold wheat 
to get in line before huge gates of Heaven 
where the Gate Keeper with long flower beard 
inspects my fruit, then drapes around my neck 
ribbon with brass disk stamped with face of God. 

Entering gates of Heaven, I haul my cart 
heaped with apples to the large market place 
where the store master assigns me the stall 
to set baskets of apples on wood bench, 
then people give me coins to buy my apples, 
while God sits high on towering pyramid 
to keep watch over marketing exchange 
and adjudicate disputes based on laws. 

After the sun gleams gold behind far hills, 
we gather in the temple to feast and drink 
when angels in white robes bring plates of food, 
then God descends the gold stairway from Heaven 
and, while his son plays harp, his daughter sings 
as he describes Creation of the World, 
and points to huge cloud glowing with moonlight 
to explain where his father reigns on high. 

At dawn I heap empty baskets on cart 
then leave the gates of Heaven to return 
along winding river where flocks of birds 
swirl among trees where herds of deer graze 
back home to where my grove of apple trees 
shimmers in breezes from high mountain slopes, 
then sit on my favorite stone by the river 
to sing about the beauty of this world. 

From my vision about plain country life 
of the fruit-seller in the market town 
that thrived at the core of civilized life 
the past ten thousand years of human history, 
I see how gates of Heaven represent 
admittance of the farmer and the craftsman 
to sell their produce and crafts inside walls 
constructed to protect people from thieves. 

I drive my car on wide highway to town 
where I walk through shiny glass doors of Heaven 
to enter the shopping mall, paradise 
surrounded by walls where the angels live, 
who sell clothes and things made in factories 
where sinners slave creating things to sell 
so Chief Executive Officer God 
reigns in bright palace of his Golden Tower. 

Nothing has changed the past ten thousand years, 
for farmers grow crops, herders tend livestock, 
miners dig minerals, foresters cut wood, 
craftsmen make things, servants haul things in carts, 
merchants buy and sell things in market stores, 
bankers manage money, and warriors fight 
to guard the whole food-production machine, 
while God makes the rules for how it all works. 

After the rise and fall over centuries 
of towns, kingdoms, empires, and nation-states, 
we have developed complex government 
to regulate business deals between groups, 
and established system of democracy 
so we can choose who plays God of the land 
in controlled revolution through our vote 
so no man can become tyrant of greed.