I stand before a wall, immense, dark, impervious, an ominous.
I ask my Lord.
How, Lord, how can I pass through?
He answers.
Look, my Child.
Not with your eyes, hear, my Child, not with your ears.
So, for years, I sit. I see. I listen.
I see.. the cracks in the wall, fortified by pain. gilded over with gold, I hear.. the wind, sighing against that wall, looking for a release from the cataclysm about to start.
Then, I feel.. I FEEL! I feel free, my road is to be hard, but, it is mine, and it drives me.
I see that wall, and I wish to bring the darkness down, to oblivion.
I feel the Hand of my Lord on my shoulder, strengthen me, leading me to overcome the wall’s darkness, and to bring it down.
My Lord, I ask, will you help others, as you have helped me?
YES, my Lord says, ALWAYS, AND THROUGHOUT ALL TIME, I WILL LOOK AFTER MY CHILDREN.
I thank God, and turn to the task of making roads from the gold that fell from the wall, so that all may join in an everlasting comfort.
(That, my dear, is my life’s work. Love you, and hope you understand.
A poem by: Mickel Beckett