The Traveler Turning at the Gate
A Poem Inspired by Luke 9:61
A man once stood where twilight touched the hill,Where olive branches bowed beneath the breeze,And heard the solemn Christ who beckons stillThrough dust-worn roads and darkened centuries.The Master’s voice had stirred the crowded airLike trumpet-song across a sleeping land;Yet one remained divided by his care,A backward longing chained within his hand.
“I shall go too,” the hesitant soul cried,“I shall arise and walk the narrow way;But first permit […]
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