Analysis of heaven BY:Markus E. Lucas

From what place am I?

And what mountain High upon high?

Where Rolling Meadows and dew dropped grass are never ending,

And my dreams spread wings and fly?

From what place am I, that makes my life seem bleak?

Where they've heard not and never seen the weak.

From what place am I, and how is it here I've come?

Were my age carries no distance,

And there's beauty in every song sung.

From what place am I, I close my eyes and see.

That what lies without is within,

Then heaven's what this must be.