Heaven

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Seven years ago I was asked by a friend if I was "religious and if I believed in God?" As a (formerly) practicing agnostic I quickly answered:"no." However, I defended myself by explaining that I lived my life according to universal principals of "right and wrong" (as I understood them). Because I believed that our deeds create a lasting effect on the world, I felt confident in my everlasting future. In other words, I wasn't worried about there being a heaven or not. I told my friend that when I die, I am banking on knowing that my impact on the world will be ever lasting. My "heaven" will ultimately be the creation of the the sum total of all my actions.
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I will never forget my friend's response: he looked at me with glassy eyes, and told me how deeply spiritual I was. I didn't see it. It took five more years to see what he meant. Such was the inspiration of the following poem I wrote.
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Heaven
The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
2 q* |. L8 [. y A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
. J" }2 K, j1 i/ E, O0 @ An accidental offspring of a boulder
But just a very small stone.

The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
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/ e1 {& Y6 i3 G; p The instant the pebble kisses the pond
* U9 Z- A8 R6 C" N3 ]  w Its signature of concentric ripples
Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
5 p. }4 X3 }* u, t# ?" q( a Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
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5 z* H3 `% L: y  J5 v The pebble creates its worth and meaning
' ^, u* ^* U6 F6 ~- Y( f8 w# b  J7 B By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
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9 W# d/ K$ @' W" |& Y Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
But ultimately recognizing
That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
4 S; Y: U* R2 }( f  J( X& R0 Y on a path into ourselves.
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It is true then:
Our everlasting future
# p! I. t6 B2 t1 c- S, M! b8 `  ~ Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
0 X. E; q! r% O3 Y7 y/ o5 q9 s Into the pond of life
& c/ w& Y0 }' M. S, ] Creating ripples
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4 Q) h4 A  O" P9 _/ N Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
: N- x8 Y& V% z But because of actions.

Our life's prayers our answered
# w! u  I8 ?4 y" a Because even the smallest pebble
1 ~; s1 w7 }) W8 b7 v" \ No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
  H  e- i8 U" x" F$ @+ `/ t" { Of those we touch.?

' c. }5 F" o# g* f+ J6 B9 d# ` And when the icy winds of death
* H) x) `/ t1 E/ @/ {; R4 Y- u beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
; C! z) s- I. z( P' `; |, M3 d With the knowledge that
* r( f. E* o+ G* M# { because of that one pebble
5 y/ C' ^5 Y* S1 l) ] The world will never be the same.

And then we have heaven …
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( Z. m7 Z2 s7 N, ~; `" C8 O Ross Rosenberg
& `- e/ S7 t) T3 R" F' S 8/18/03