I dream about a human who
can walk upon the grass with feet
unshod. His soles are wet with dew,
and earth and skin exchange their heat.

He hears the voices of the birds,
the songs that tell that life is good.
They do not need discursive words
to spread their joy within the wood.

He gazes at the bubbling brook
that scatters sunlight on the trees.
To him, the forest is a book
that fills his mind with pleasant ease.

He breathes the pines that scent the air,
and he inhales their soft perfume.
The joy of life is everywhere.
The meadow is his living room.

The animals don’t sting or bite,
for all of life is glad to be.
There is no fear of day or night.
The light of truth is all they see.

There is no sadness, for their minds
don’t look behind to rue or miss
a better past. The present finds
them in an ever-growing bliss.

Their hearts are full of gratitude
for all their brothers gathered round.
They’re steeped within a happy mood.
Their voices fill the air with sound.

They know their lives on earth will not
endure, and they will cease to roam.
But this is not a fearful thought,
for Heaven calls to take them home.

In Heaven, greater joys await.
In Heaven’s oneness, they’ll unite.
There won’t be any fear or hate.
They’ll know all things within the light.