Arrival Poem by Ima Ryma

There's an old weathered wooden gate
That I do dream of while asleep.
It's open and I contemplate
The woods beyond, lovely and deep.
The pathway through has been well worn,
A sign that many others chose
To walk from night into the morn,
As through the trees the sunlight glows.
Welcoming opportunity,
I should pass through before I wake.
Just standing still, I should not be.
Why put it off for goodness sake!

It is Heaven's Gate I'd come to,
And this Gate does beckon me through.