A straight jet-stream streaks the sky,

white on blue,

born in the combustion of mist, power and ice.

Hangs there,

a thin-cotton-seam, waiting to be gently opened.

Alluring,

like the zipper on Zendaya’s dress.

All,

for the eye to see into the beyond.

But, only,

merely mas allya del sol,

blue, darkening into black space, stretching into infinity?

Or,

exploding from the separating split,

GLORY!!!

Dwarfing the finale of fireworks over New York’s Forth of July!

Illuminating the way to Golden-Heavens Swung-Wide-Open-Gates!

Divinity, patiently awaiting arriving-saints, newly minted,

to see the smile on their Mother-Father Gods face.

To hear the song the Spirit sings with all the angelic choirs,

all parts sung in one voice, soprano, tenor, alto, base.

The singular harmony of Heaven, in Its one word opus,

“GRACE!”!!!