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Intimate talk

I'm standing in front of the gate.
What is it?
The cargo accumulated with prayer and possessions
The last days.

I'm lost in thought at the doorstep
It's like a shadow.
Grab your own burden in the feet of God,
On the day of judgment.

I can not make up my mind,
The land has grown.
Holds tightly what I managed to cash in,
Than lived.

And no longer is the body a temple for the soul,
Only a case.
Somewhere there it will remain in the world's wilderness,
As a gift from God.

But once you need to open this door,
Knocking open.
Remember what in life I wanted so much to forget,
Stupid pretending.

Make a step, cross the threshold.
I opened my soul.
Let God paternally look at his creation,
And sighing ...

From grief to suffering, take a step
And repent.
Like any father your first friend, you are your enemy,
To you and to suffer.

I'm standing still. The soul is already beyond the threshold,
Like a prisoner.
And the fate of writing with errors before God,
She moans on her knees.

"REFLECTIONS" Grandpa Go

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