Turnstile
At death, stood one, at a turnstile,
Whether each, facing judgment, would pay.
There, no accord for entry, was made worthwhile,
Nor was there bestowed a ready day.
For the tree that had fallen south or north,
In that direction, endlessly, remained the same.
Only the Godly, advanced henceforth,
Those who honored and glorified God's name.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2009
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