That guy

should not be mocked

who,

for fear of that last good-bye

creates a heaven in his mind.

“Honey?

I’m going out to Wal-Mart.

I’ll pick up some Cashew Milk

and a frozen pizza for tonight.

Need anything else?”

“Get some bananas and muffins

for breakfast tomorrow!”

his lady – love replies.

“Right!

OK! See ya later.

Love you!”

And off he goes into eternity

through a puddle, deeper on the road

than he thought

or the cell-phone-distracted trucker

driving in the oncoming lane

or that gene,

dormant since conception,

wakes between

diastolic and systolic beats

halting his dependable rhythm.

Don’t scoff at him

who binds and looses on earth,

giving himself a Junaluska portal

into a continuing.

What does it matter,

the solidity of pearls in the gate,

or the gold in the throne?

Whether a planted mustard seed,

rooted in faith,

grows into the substance of tree

or not.

The believer flies away home

to a heaven in his mind

and sleeps easy through eternity,

or,

hears the angels choir

singing in the domes a’far

and, picking up the tenor line,

joins in the harmony.