Religion Poem by Shiloh Thompson

Author's Note:
This poem really has no meaning. I was just kind of sitting here, and it just popped out from the tips of my fingers. So, I figured I'd put it up here anyway to see what people make of it! Not sure why I named it Religion either... My muses must be tired...

The sun goes down on another chapter of my life,
A final flourish put on the bottom of a paper,
As a poet leans back and surveys his work,
Pleased with the ending he has crafted for me.

A divine wind blows across my window pane,
Knocking upon the doors behind my eyes,
Begging them to open up and reveal my secrets,
Telling the world of what is hidden away inside.

The wings of a dove brush my blushing cheeks,
As he croons softly in unwillingly listening ears,
Weighing each reaction to his words with care,
Measuring the apparent deception against my soul.

A rose opens softly against my sweaty forehead,
Her petals gently caressing away this disbelief,
Shielding the truth from my lips against prying ears,
While hiding her own secrets within her heart.

Wandering the golden road to the Gates of Pearls,
The dove, the wind and the rose my only companions,
Moving onward to the poet and his finished work,
With the hopes of changing the ending he crafted.

Shall I be content with a life decided by another?
Nay, it is not the decision of another, but mine,
For I am the master of my own divine ending,
And I stand by that right until I reach the Gates.