These lines and many like them come to me. They are sourced from the part of me that is rooted in the tradition of the mystic poet. Even though I have no religious ties, I feel a presence and an energy that I can only describe in spiritual terms. The more I claim my identity as the transformational poet, the more comfort I feel with these sentiments and the more inclined I am to put them into poems and share them with the world.
We humans are trapped in our maps and can only conceive things in human terms. To see heaven through the eyes of god can only be imagined, or is limited to our imagination, which is the only vehicle we have to go beyond the limits of our senses and the confines of our world. In a strange twist, for the human heart, imagination is our god.
I know I have been filled with an otherwordly presence, a vastness of being so far beyond my flesh and blood that it seems it cannot be the conjuring of my creative neurology and must reflect a truth outside of myself. I may never know its objective truth, but I do know the subjective truth of a presence in my life and a power beyond me that I cannot claim as my as own. Whatever it may be, or wherever it may be sourced from, I welcome it into my life. I let it show me heaven through the eyes of god. I let it lift my body with the wings of angels.
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