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.

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
& w3 ?4 C! @4 l2 s The pebble is worn smooth
. Y$ f/ w. ~$ c) y- d Made small over time
A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
2 `0 A% J+ ~0 S3 w( g$ Y7 t An accidental offspring of a boulder
0 ^3 c5 H( G  h* g8 l+ w But just a very small stone.

4 T* S- L9 y- i& I. X& n, A The pebble's place in our world
; R1 ^' g5 [, e' Q  l% O Is neither understood nor appreciated
# i: U3 V1 X2 v; R% v But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
0 f/ v2 Y9 z# w, M% V Its insignificance is transformed
. K! B" Q2 F4 W7 E Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
" Q3 A  z2 y. H* K, q( E
! C4 O$ i! R: b9 k6 B" \* B The instant the pebble kisses the pond
9 J9 l- {, W* N  S5 g* y Its signature of concentric ripples
3 h/ H8 s- y7 ?6 ~) P5 d! e Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
" T# ?, o! \, L1 ^7 G( ]2 f- |& S7 c Forever altering the smooth placid surface.

  w) ?6 I& M" H4 [% M% I6 j" t9 ` The pebble creates its worth and meaning
By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
  z* `, x" ~/ J! |( a. m: ~0 Y& a
8 d. ^* f3 ?* [! J6 r Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
7 x1 t9 T( I& G* D But ultimately recognizing
  m0 H  b% X( x3 ?; N, D* O That who we are meant to be
/ Y" y/ g3 Z3 l, f Can never be measured in isolation
on a path into ourselves.
8 X& j+ J0 }8 P7 C$ a2 w2 H6 }" K
5 `# D0 F; S' p It is true then:
0 ]1 Z; h, R' d4 B: ]+ R+ N& f Our everlasting future
& m5 D  `; O" D( G9 ]* R. ~ Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
Into the pond of life
$ w0 l. ~) v; k9 _  T( \ Creating ripples
: f; r% d1 Q! H  y* M that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
9 Z7 _. J0 x6 J  X9 M9 h not because of well meaning plans
9 O1 `: `) k3 V3 m But because of actions.

! e& N6 R" I, m7 R! _# t Our life's prayers our answered
Because even the smallest pebble
. t8 K9 b: s1 N! X. J. ? No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
Of those we touch.?
6 B) I' ]$ S6 ~
And when the icy winds of death
6 L0 O5 {  Z- t2 h3 `5 y# r+ R beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
: `. L3 l/ D* U* }- B" V With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.
' Q/ l1 `1 H% N# W. k/ s
And then we have heaven …
" d0 J$ |" x% Q' V' `* C( W
% m5 e* k6 S/ v+ e; m Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03