The Writers Voice
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He left all behind as he travelled that night
And the stars far above, glowed with heavenly light.
This journey he never had taken before
But he still walked on, although tired and footsore.
It seemed he had travelled for quite a few miles
When he stopped at an old house to rest for a while
Old memories returned, as he looked all around
But inside the house there was not a sound.
He knocked on the door but no one within
Answered his call as he tried to get in.
Then slowly the door creaked and swung open wide
And with some trepidation, he walked slowly inside.
The door closed behind him as he entered the hall
And a brilliant white light seemed to shine from the walls.
The stairway now gleamed with a deep shade of gold
As the traveller crossed over the glowing threshold.
The house was transformed, there were voices of grace
Soft words from old friends brought a smile to his face.
Surrounded by loved ones and scenes from the past
He had finally reached his destination at last.
As he stood in the crowd, a child touched his arm
And told the old traveller he would come to no harm.
Then the child led him onward, with the friends he adored
Up the golden stairway, to the house of the Lord.
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