I left my home, cradling my heart in my two warm hands,
I was in a foreign land, but I dismissed what I could see,
And instead looked at what I was treading beneath my dervish shoes,
A hangman’s noose,
The cold hard granite rock,
Wild mushrooms sprouting on a dead log,
A forgotten white bridge,
And when I finally looked up,
I could see the sky and the sea
And beneath me,
Heaven was lying at my feet.
It is nice to think about heaven. But try looking up for a long time, and you would end up with a creak in your neck, your eyes get all watery, and even your shoulders will feel tired. Consider the occupation of a sinner. They tend to keep their eyes lowered, but even beneath their steps, they could see life in all its glorious micro-detail, eclipsed in the beauty and mercy of God. And sometimes, if they are really lucky, they will come across a glimpse of love, reflected in their sorrowful yearning and homeless wandering. But they are not unhappy. In truth, they are in love. They are just acting unhappy.
I too am happy. Dreaming my way through my soulscape.
Have a perfect day, pet.