As I approach its eminence, the Gate of Paradise,

Across the long-anticipated worn and leveled plain,

The sight of all magnificence is sharpening my eyes

And dulling appetites for habits that no more remain.

Death to wrongs and lies! I’m living truth that never dies!

Will the afterlife be one I’m able to attain?

Will I be worthy in my works?  Will faithfulness suffice?

To gather with the chosen ones, I’ve questions that remain.

The essence of the gift of faith is to believe

And nurturing abilities are works meant to bear.

To satisfy the both of them, or either one achieve

I trust my faith encourages my kindness, joy, and cheer.

Resting upon logic is a nest that I can weave

Becoming no more than a web of my ideas.

I’ve found a somber calm as I approach my time to leave,

The substance of things hoped for and its proof will soon appear.