We Run, We Roam, We Fly

What Heaven Is Like to Me

We Run, We Roam, We Fly

There’s a place past depths of earth where the grass is greener than it should be.

The sun shines brighter and the waters clearer than anything you’ve ever seen.

There’s magic here, and every creature within its realm can feel it.

People fly and trees climb higher than mountains. Rain clouds roar and wind can topple forests to the ground.

Fire demands to be seen, soaking up every living thing in a blaze that gives life instead of chaos. This is where we roam, like angels in a distant sky.

This is how we live, like fire, lightning, and wind.

We thrive in thunder and breathe in air that carries many an infinite thing.

And here we’ve been, stretching farther than eyes can see.

Running faster than you’d believe.

Wrapped in every infinity.

In love with every galaxy.

We’ve conquered it all.

And yet we’ll still keep going.

This is how it feels.

To see judgement day in pure light.

To see God, full in face.

And you’d wish more than anything.

To walk in light again.

If all He asks is faith in abundance.

Love in excess.

Grace in endlessness.

To dream impossible dreams.

And believe in flawless things.

Then I’d suggest you run.

Toward arms that reach out for you.

And in that instance, you’ll find it.

The single most beautiful thing you’ll ever see.

You’ll find heaven.

Among the greatest of things.

surreal poetry
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