People come,
People go.
Never once thinking that it’s all a show.
Standing from up there,
Omnipotent,
Judging our whims,
Defining our free will,
Proclaiming it as destiny.
As we pine desperately.
As my life
Speeds through time.
A speck,
In your palm.
I wanted to know,
Is it faith,
That solely determines if I have a place,
In heaven’s space?
When my conviction drowned.
Time and place.
Did you see it on your machine,
In cinematic widescreen?
Now then,
As my heart refuses to beat.
Will I still reach
Sunday
on
Heaven’s highway?