On Earth As It Is

What would happen if streets of gold 
dripped down from heaven in a splat 
upon our streets of earth and mud and mire?

Big wet puddles of bright, shining things
like hope and reconciliation;
iridescent, interrupting the flow 
of life always down to the wire.

Would we skip, look over it 
to get on with it, the daily doldrum
or curse or yell because it slowed us down,
or stand in awe, then scoop some up, 
take it home to frame it on our wall;
to look impressive, along with all 
the other things we collect?

Or would we wade deep into it,
the messy exhilarating substance,
and wrestle with it’s dichotomy
of justice, peace, and mercy.

Would we let it ooze, infuse, let it rain down;
would we dare to see the world as kingdom 
come on earth as it is 
in heaven?