“…we saw the glory of the telestial, which glory is that of the lesser, even as the glory of the stars differs from that of the glory of the moon…”

–Doctrine and Covenants 76:81

In the place for those who best
remember resurrection,
glory surpasses understanding.

Only seen by angel’s flight,
cities remain far off, blurred
into purity and angular sanctity.

Here ocean tides waltz continually
with gentlest sands, as siblings hold hands
while ambling beneath partly cloudy skies.

These are they of whom God has said,
It’s fine they were born.

Filtered through bronzy mist, ruffled
waterfall ledges wear rainbow aprons
bowing down to a dim Kolob.

Where visiting toddler gods take
piggyback rides, but for some of ones,
the forest holds no predators.

These are they who studied
the toe prints on Christ’s feet.

And here each meadow bares a solitary
tree casting down branches continually
for campfires beneath their stars.

These are they who loved—
no lie.

Poet’s Notes:

This poem was inspired by stock footage used in Music and the Spoken Word broadcasts.

For another beyond-the-veil poem, try Premortal Life at Intermission.

Photo by Ghost Presenter on Pexels.com.