Reach for Heaven, Grovel with worms

StreeEETCH
between the infinite all
and the infinite nothing
For we are the couriers
of existences' halls

The infinite All
the material ideas
the galactic mass
Everything we learn
Everything which turns
Connects us... in the loop

The infinite nothing
resides on our other side:
on the other hand,
in the sky and deeper space...
waiting to receive a gift or present
It is our empty hand that strikes
to defend our integrity:
Our Health, Wealth, Ingenuity, and Acceptance...
So that we may have room for everything we choose...
in eternity's blessing.

We act as couriers and go between
with the languages we carry
and trust laid in purveying
our dreams of the infinite
and that which we won't know
by connecting the heavens
with Earths down below

For existence's halls
are trees that grow wild:
with foundations that root
and life flowing inside
while providing us shelter and maybe some food
as ceilings held high keep dry our feet
and animals keep company with nuts they meet.
I will try to remember that life is a tree,
accepting of all whom a tree might greet.
And in reaching for heaven, gives direction to me
as well as all those bristle-cone trees.
For growing up and out is what its about!
But if you know trees they don't move around.

So be like a tree if you want to put roots down
and just let it be, let it be, and let the worlds turn round
for our accumulation of junk bleeds the love in our hearts
and working too hard robs our family of spark.
By all means, work and love, but don't expect of me
to be all those things you are and weren't.
For nobody's the same, though two trees may be alike
it's the generic ideas that are trapping us inside
For we may be a tree, a bush, or orchid, or forb
in reaching towards heaven, in reaching towards good.