A poem by Sheila Bell, inspired by the image...


The Gate

It may come to some at a young age
Or may dawn gently through the years
For some it may not come at all
Amidst life's angst and fears

It is a gift, to all, freely given
To receive it, we don't have to wait
Only to change our perspective
Please know that it's never too late

As I approach the next stage of my life
It's, as if, with a new set of eyes
The mundane transforms to magnificent
All earth's beauty before me now lies

At the gate we can make our choices
To turn back or continue ahead
Or perhaps to pause, to contemplate
On the gate itself instead

Take time to see and touch it
To imagine the craftman's hand
Appreciate how sympathetically
It humbly nestles in the land

For its only when we pause awhile
We can feel the creator's touch
And the eyes, once weary, can see afresh
The earth's glory, our souls need so much

Sheila Bell

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