There is an old man who stands guarding a gate,
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