Through the Gate all must pass
into hands eternity grasp.
Gone, obverse of those to come,
in arrears of those in front,
upon a path without return.
Analogs standing at the Gate waiting our turn.
Who are we – what do we become –
A cosmic pretender – a telluric avatar?
Elegance in passing – primal, uncertain expectation?
A model in life – an inspiration for our bereavement?
Will deeds survive – memory retain –
will thought of others preserve our name?
I will remember –
even after my passage through the Gate!
Poetry
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You have a really great grasp on the English language. I was completely enthralled by your poem. Good job!
I enjoyed reading this piece. You brought up a lot of questions that everyone wonders—important questions, and interesting questions. Your use of a rhyme scheme helps to tie the entirety of the piece together.