New Castles

When I moved into the little shed, in the back of your sumptuous estate with the gigantic
Buddha
to worship or merely aspire to emulate
I had read Hesse, but promptly threw away the book to
meditate
before Mary in the quiet little chapel.
Yes, every single thing seemed minuscule in that early time
after my mother went to Heaven.
There is an actual Heaven.
It is someplace new, always new, and never decaying
like us.
This place, so bright and lit up like a fireworks display
with all golden lights, but with singing instead of bangs and
thunder
waits for us who have lived on top of toadstools and beneath
bridges.
It will have new castles for each of us, like Lazarus.
But that was just some story to tell your child.

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