The Gate

The Gate

An angel walks a long road
with no sign post or end.
He never is exhausted
and never could pretend.

He helps to keep in motion
one circle of the wheel.
He mends the broken pattern,
his mission is to heal.

A brown gate in a low wall,
he pointed out to me.
Only I can open it,
I do not need a key.

The gate opens on a path,
somehow I sensed, I knew.
It will lead me to my home,
the place to which I grew.

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