Where Is Heaven Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

I sit observing to eventually wonder.
Where is Heaven?
And who amongst us has experienced its existence.
Not one shared 'selfie' produced have I seen.
Nor a group picture taken,
With God in the middle smiling nervously.
Knowing finally His identity,
Has been reluctantly exposed.
Atop a billowy cloud and glowing.
So bright His flowing white beard,
Is bearly notice from calm winds that blow.
And with a look on His face making it understood,
He has made this appearance an exception.

Where is Heaven?
Depicted in scriptures to quote God's words.
Or sounds of His voice,
Those faithful have claim to have heard.

Church folks say they know of Heaven well.
Some proclaim they have been saved,
From turmoil and strife.
That can make life to live a living Hell.
But unlike others uncommitted,
They have been selected as favorites.
The few God has chosen to pick.
Especially on Sundays seen leaping out of pews.
From where they sit.
And sobbing to let it known,
God has left His throne to touch them.
Yet can not verify,
With eyes closed and tears to cry.
If it was God or a minister's touch.
With outreaching hands requesting their tithes.
While holding them tightly with palms on heads.
Before they roam to grope their thighs.

They shout,
"I feel the spirit."
They shout,
"Lord, my soul you have come to save."
They shout,
"I feel His hands all over me."
Then after the service,
They return to their decadent ways.

I observe this as I sit to wonder.
Where is Heaven?
And who amongst us with convincing certainty,
Can say they have proof,
Of a God they serve...
Who has created all of life,
Without first thristing to have Himself...
Humored.
24 hours each day.
Especially on Sundays as He awaits,
Listening to such outrageous revelations.