A-PLACE-OF-SINGING-AND-CELEBRATING

Going to A-PLACE-OF-SINGING-AND-CELEBRATING. Listening to singers like angels flying aloft and all singing songs of joyousness and merriment.

Angels who were not messengers but angels who were made by G-d to sing, women singing, girls with lung power, sweetness and sound-fullness, sounding voices, high soprano voices, voices that cry out with extreme ecstasy, sounds of angels who were formed to sing loudly the lyrics of pleasure, sweetly singing me to sleep, sweetly singing me to awaken, songs instead of conversations, singing to everyone and singing everywhere, singing to a steady beat of musical instruments, singing from the throat, deep gutted throatiness, words of love and sincerity, women angels, women's voices, loudly, clearly, pronouncing the laws of the lands, and then we follow them.

An end to a song, becoming a whisper as a baby is rocked to sleep in a cradle. A baby who will grow up to sing too. Wanting to someday become an opera star. Winds blowing the sweet sounds miles around so we can all hear them. Trees singing songs in unison with the angels, dropping leaves in autumn, to the tunes, one by one.

Heaven's gates opening and leading us in, a parade of singing angels, a parade of singing tunes. The truest meaning of Heaven as a place to go a place that is always in song.

Ears ringing like chimes, bodies swaying in tune, loving to be an angel, to join the angels in chorus, to sound out cheeriness and loftiness, singing oneself to sleep.