The Gate

They sit in wonder
Who will open The Gate.
As their minds reflect
If they pursued hate.

Kind hearted people
With jovial deeds.
Who meant no harm
But planted a seed.

Upon leaving residence
No one was content.
Because they never knew
Why they were sent.

Now standing at The Gate
Waiting to get in.
Wondering if any heart
Their soul did win.

by Cecelia Weir

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