Heaven

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Seven years ago I was asked by a friend if I was "religious and if I believed in God?" As a (formerly) practicing agnostic I quickly answered:"no." However, I defended myself by explaining that I lived my life according to universal principals of "right and wrong" (as I understood them). Because I believed that our deeds create a lasting effect on the world, I felt confident in my everlasting future. In other words, I wasn't worried about there being a heaven or not. I told my friend that when I die, I am banking on knowing that my impact on the world will be ever lasting. My "heaven" will ultimately be the creation of the the sum total of all my actions.
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I will never forget my friend's response: he looked at me with glassy eyes, and told me how deeply spiritual I was. I didn't see it. It took five more years to see what he meant. Such was the inspiration of the following poem I wrote.

Heaven
The pebble is worn smooth
4 k5 [, b  F5 S* c Made small over time
2 f$ E& _0 s8 z& x/ K: J A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
/ t5 F1 m8 o9 Y  [' e1 ` A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
  {. B: E2 ~# E2 w: t4 { An accidental offspring of a boulder
But just a very small stone.
8 j' A5 ~2 W7 D% p2 N- K
! T" g$ v) E. n% ?2 v" ?- ? The pebble's place in our world
3 t# z0 d% c/ w2 w, D4 k/ n) p Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
/ w# p' h" n. g& i Its insignificance is transformed
) n5 a  }; S% i0 A! [% j8 L$ ] Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.

4 t  ?2 P& |; A5 }0 ?( @, I& v The instant the pebble kisses the pond
7 R7 |+ f, ^: `" ~6 g3 B Its signature of concentric ripples
* V. c' b3 B1 o! o0 W. N! t2 E Spiral outwards
" N2 _5 _8 X. r) w+ t5 ` Moving far beyond itself.
) o( b7 T5 y5 t! W; ? Gently affecting everything in its wake
Forever altering the smooth placid surface.

The pebble creates its worth and meaning
2 E+ k; Y- E2 ~1 t$ g By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
! s0 H9 ^8 _; w! m Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
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Aren't we all pebbles?
5 g3 Y! G: ]* v- \) {8 r Feeling small and insignificant
But ultimately recognizing
/ A2 C4 Z! N5 J7 K6 i. W) S That who we are meant to be
$ S1 A- ^- }. K! I Can never be measured in isolation
on a path into ourselves.
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1 d* g' R! O$ @: m, I; A6 u) ^ It is true then:
Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
8 {7 F* p* e' g; E: t1 c8 D Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
) E; E& H2 r: X/ H not because of well meaning plans
, y" }' `! f8 j But because of actions.

Our life's prayers our answered
Because even the smallest pebble
# k1 n7 ]% O; s7 u8 Q' h& c$ Z: w No matter how seemingly insignificant
1 N/ F% t" ?3 D$ I1 m8 H Changes the course of the lives
# _  o' ?. G" i Of those we touch.?

And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
$ O( {! j& x6 f% L+ ~ We will gently leave this life
. ?  F. a4 z% l3 C) X( v# p With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.

And then we have heaven …

Ross Rosenberg
# r5 N1 j3 H# E4 Y2 s 8/18/03