The days of Old when once were heard
Proverbial sayings, Proverbial words;
Somehow slipped from Memory
buried ‘neath the weeping trees.
Simple spoken words of Love
carried on the wings of doves.
Leaves Question with thee each concern;
for fear someday that we may burn.
The Gates of Hell may open wide.
Lies and Truth may then collide.
For Fears too soon to be erased,
May then be how our lives are based.
For the Passions deep within us all,
carry the power of our hidden calls.
To Save, Rejoice, and Live once more,
May we travel Beyond the Sacred Door.