Gonna Be Like

Heaven gonna smell like sweet-olive, friend;

gonna have galleries for sitting, breezes for cooling,

singing to joy up the choir of souls

swinging a coming-home dance.

Flowers gonna jump into bouquets of beauty.

Branches gonna clap their leaves

for the God-feel in the air.

Sleep gonna be deep dreams of no more hurt;

no pain but the release of joy sighs

at the taste of salt rivers

flowing into the ocean of arms-open-wide love.

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