#WritcoPoemPrompt8
Every soul that passes the gate,
Has passed a test of faith,
Trudging along on tired feet,
Almost there, gazing the street.

To the left is a smooth broad way,
It is preferred by billions.
And to the right seems astray,
narrow and beded with scorpions.

I stood clueless at the T-junction, Perpendicular to a signpost.
It reads"the left is destruction
and to the right is the Lord of hosts"

Insanity seems sane and rational
and the only clue seems delusional.
For many tread the broad way,
"it is comforting"they say.

Then I heard a silent audible voice
"do not...