A corridor, closed oak doors, has its sway,
Choices to make ahead, beside, past sealed,
But one to open, a selected way.
The unchosen then locks, the unrevealed.
What lives in our beyond, beyond remains,
We only know a past and present frame,
With time, decision does our sight unchain,
And oak and stone dissolve into glass pane.
A hall shifting, enlightened from behind,
The past a windowed walked, ahead unknown,
What lies in time is always shadow lined,
By faith, trust, and hope is the obscure shown.
Faith is the only true and holy light,
It shines through doors, and makes the future bright.
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