In front of me stood the man.

He stared at the Gate.

Without a hope or a plan

In front of the Gate he stopped.

The wind blew through the man's hair

And he looked down at his clothes.

He felt he was less than fair,

As he stared at his ragged clothes.

Two lions stood on either side

Their heads raised up high.

They had nothing to fear or hide,

With their heads high in the air.

And then the man passed through the gate

With a steady stride.

He walked up to meet his fate

His pace even and sure.

And then came the lions' roar,

Full of admiring pride.

Their manes shook, his heart soared,

With the lions' noble air.

In their howl was a strange respect

Found only in a lion's thunder.

It was an honor that could not be wrecked

Always found in a lion's roar.

And in the sun of the day,

My heart raced as well.

And I wished in a certain way

That they'd roar for me as well.

I walked up to the lions then.

And looked into their eyes.

I wished for them to roar again,

As they looked back at me.

Expectantly, I stepped toward it,

Waiting for the roar.

I crept to the shining Gate,

Hoping to hear their sound.

And as I was walking through,

Looking to see them roar,

The gleaming lions - majestic and true -

Stood silent evermore.