#WritcoPoemPrompt8
Every soul that passes the gate,
Has passed a test of fate,
Trudging along on tired feet,
Almost there, refusing to be beat,

On a scale my heart is placed,
Weight against a feather,
How it weights is where I end,
If it weights less or more,

The gates impose,
As the scales rose,
A heart heavy from a life of woe,
As it turns into my foe,

St. Peter waits as the scale levels,
Its what keeps out the devils,
Until it stopped,
And everything dropped.

Lighter then the feather somehow,
Heaven to me shall bow.