Wings To The World

They said heaven was the right kind of crowded, and dusty, and soft. They said it would smell of roses and clouds, they said it would melt every part of my body into one. They called heaven beautiful, they called it enough.

They said the glass in heaven's windows would be thick, coloured, and like a lens through which you saw the world. They said I would be a being of light, they called the writings we were to make beautiful. The people that said this spent millennia trying to chase the feeling of sweet tenderness, but they chased it in things that were never meant to be more than sculptures and scriptures.

They didn't say heaven would feel so... homely.