The Watcher at the Gate

There is an old man who stands guarding a gate,

always watching

And if you ask him what lies beyond it, he will tell you, “I know that not.”

The gate has been there since the beginning of all things

Bronzed by the passing of time

Worn by the rain, and snow, and wind

“The gate,” he will say, “leads to twilight.

But what else is unknown to me.”

And when the time comes, he will call your name.

You will find yourself standing before him

He, robed in grey

will step aside

And tell you to pass through

Then you will pass through

And you will know what he has never known

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