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.
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Heaven
The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
6 \7 b7 F0 C  ^ An accidental offspring of a boulder
3 i* t; |1 e, h% _6 Z3 ? But just a very small stone.

The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
  j# W; {2 g3 e& ~& t Its insignificance is transformed
. s) I$ I& g' c2 ~! K6 Z Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.

6 ?) W- Z( x6 d. N2 l5 ~3 F; ? The instant the pebble kisses the pond
0 Z8 @" k# c; V6 f( ?3 W Its signature of concentric ripples
Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
8 ^, D- S+ s. X" p9 W  F Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
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The pebble creates its worth and meaning
& L+ k" ~" Y/ r" H1 v By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
3 l% V. q, y$ x- V( ~7 I( O Creating karmic energy
+ ]  t/ b3 O4 B- Y Producing lasting and fluid impressions.

/ b0 V6 _8 _( E' v- e Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
3 \2 D3 t7 q: q. y But ultimately recognizing
, M* ^9 ~* F2 e8 o* A That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
on a path into ourselves.

It is true then:
. Q% s$ w/ @1 |; _ Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
Into the pond of life
6 L2 j7 j3 g: I% e, k( K( E8 a) t$ U Creating ripples
, X8 j9 I# C8 S  r% V, p that leave unique mark on our world
# ~3 w% A- `" I% m3 ?' o Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
# n8 e9 c: k% j$ c, o# L But because of actions.

+ X) g$ {5 P7 S% `3 _: w Our life's prayers our answered
Because even the smallest pebble
- {- ?9 R2 r6 C, _/ r, O9 `1 z No matter how seemingly insignificant
  Q5 P; ~# I6 K" a7 { Changes the course of the lives
4 N$ H8 u$ K7 }. Q9 n Of those we touch.?
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2 V6 z8 c+ G* S, o2 j0 T And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
' c5 [4 ^  Y0 x3 {! _; x  P. y We will gently leave this life
4 v2 }* F$ o3 r+ }! q8 l With the knowledge that
& W2 ~1 g7 W: W; e9 X; w$ v because of that one pebble
4 N9 j8 n3 X0 h* W9 s The world will never be the same.

: [2 x- X4 g* p2 T6 V/ q And then we have heaven …
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* d7 s1 t! [/ ^7 N# J  o Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03