The prison gate is open;
That prison you entered on your own
Years ago,
Without shackles, chains, or patrol.
Many times, you have wanted to get out,
You have seen the light behind the window,
But, time after time, you have crashed
Against the gleaming glass,
That offers you bright colors,
And it leads to nowhere, but ash.
The tools of your life are there--
Rusty and old, useless, hidden
In the darkness of your past,
That past that has kept you trapped.
You don't even bother
To look at the gate.
The gate is all the way open,
Waiting for you to return
To the fresh mountain air.
Why do you waste your time, your life,
Trying to find freedom, fulfilment and joy
Through a beautiful, closed window,
Which offers you all those,
But delivers none?
Jesus, the Christ, is telling you,
"I am the Way,
The Truth, and the Life.
I am the Gate."
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