The Triple Passage of Mortality

When first we breathe, the womb becomes a gate,
Where life begins—a trembling, fragile state.
Each step we take, though free, remains confined,
For every path leads to the end designed.

Our trials surge, unceasing in their tide,
Each wound unhealed, each hope unsatisfied.
Yet death, though feared, remains the sacred course,
Its gates ordained by mercy, not by force.

At dying’s hour, as flesh begins to wane,
The soul ascends, unbound by earthly chain.
No sting remains where God has placed His seal,
And from the breach springs life, annealed and real.

Through Him, whose hands bore nails and bore our plight,
Whose cross poured forth redemption's endless might,
We walk the vale where shadows long have dwelled,
For death, through Him, forever stands expelled.

Three thresholds guard the mortal soul’s ascent:
From death, in death, through death, by Heaven sent.
So may the grave no terror’s voice instill;
Its sleep brings peace—salvation’s holy will.

• Read other works of Rolph David
• ronan.davidweb.de(Spam Protected - Please type eMail-Address by hand)