Perplexed by the Revelator’s Heaven

The earth in its sanctified and immortal state will be made like unto crystal (D&C 130:9) 

Aren’t leaves crumbling against the edge 
of autumn, the fibrous tangle 
of the lesser shrew’s heart, and a prophet curled
in the belly of night, shaking like a reed fragile enough? 

Why transmute Alps or Andes into Spanish crystal
or celestialize black forests into a clarity 
that can shatter? 

Won’t porcelain branches snap 
like the camel’s leg, the donkey’s left ear, 
the Christ child’s outstretched 
wrist, glued and glued but always somewhat scarred? 

I have seen too much of crystalline nativity to wish
the world’s rebirth a sea of glass.