How silly: we stand
on the porch of heaven
a little uneasy, though eager, too,
the heartfelt invitation in our hands,
briefly admiring the pearly gates—
amazing, really, the pearl, the craft,
the lucent colors purling up the columns,
the welcome warmth wafting from within—
but then we turn to the hope at hand…
and so— how silly, and how sad:
we stand and fumble for the keys,
and rummage anxiously, and dig around
forever, searching, failing, grasping more,
our friends and dear beloved looking on,
while we’re forever stuck outside—
when, look:
the door’s not locked,
not even closed,
there is no door,
and all we seek is on this side of it.
~by Steve Garnaas-Holmes
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