No Unimportant Stories (A Poem About Heaven)

There are no unimportant stories
And when we finally exist
In our final form in the field
Beyond illusion, there will be

No stage. Maybe God will ban
Amplifiers and cell phones and
All means of talking to people
Who aren’t face to face.

There will be no fame because
Nobody will feel like their lives
Are not special enough compared
To the people who live in the screen.

And when all we can do is share
Loaves and fishes with the people
Sitting around us and tell them
Stories, we will marvel at all the

Different permutations you have
Made: each of them being worth
An Oscar, except the concept of
Rewards will be in the distant

Past by then; we will understand
That beauty needs no reward
Nor even a response; we will
Learn to notice and smile with

Our whole bodies and attune
Perfectly to each other’s faces
Like mirrors and as we do that,
You will bring our icons into

Perfect alignment and we will
Be like a giant radio telescope
With billions of tiles that when
They’re synchronized perfectly

Becomes a dance party whose
Intricate songs echo throughout
The galaxies and you might let
The people who are angry that

Everyone else is actually there
Leave the party early if they
Have to or you might pull them
Aside like a loving father and say

Son, everything I have is yours
And everything you did was me
Acting through you so wipe off
Your scorn for the mercy you

Received in plenty yourself; in this
Family, we celebrate homecomings,
And when Lucifer finally returns,
The banquet table will be complete.