Someday, I mused dreamily, I might even find the roadway to heaven. I'd spot a sign post up ahead that says heaven x amount of light years ahead; but many of the end numbers will be missing and worn away by nature within the framework of a concept we call time; or perhaps the number is insignificant and a measurement of the unknown, the never ending.
I imagined the sign’s directional arrow was covered with star dust. The sign would be pocked marked with holes created by fragments of falling stars, meteor showers, and rusting with age and lack of care. It would point to a ramp and the entrance way to a concrete and asphalt freeway, like one of those California creations, the main artery in the universe leading to the first lane without the maddening pace and perpetual chaos of earthly freeways. This was the way to the core, the substance, the source of creation, God's place.
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