The gate to the forest of wisdom Had always been there

A small wooden gate Beautiful and simple There beside the road Of the cold concrete Of the city street

I’d seen it every day Where I lived my life But always walked past Ignored it

Sometimes I looked across
And wondered
Wondered about the little wooden gate

One day after years had passed I stopped and opened the gate It opened easily
It had always been there Waiting to be opened

Through the gate I saw For the first time
The path into the forest
I wondered did I have time

I looked back
Up and down the street
Rain soaked concrete
Squealing tires
People rushing
With busy faces and noisy heads And thought I was needed there

But I turned
Put my foot out
And took a first step on the path