Open Door, Open Heart
When the nights grow long and bitter,
and the lamps burn faint and low,
when the world feels cold and distant,
and the hours move soft and slow—
there is more than dark to guide you,
more than silence to impart;
there is love beyond the shadows:
open door, open heart.
When the years have left you weary,
and the mirror speaks of time,
when the laughter of the children
fades into another rhyme—
do not think your song has ended,
nor your beauty torn apart;
still the welcome waits to hold you:
open door, open heart.
Though your table feels too empty,
and the chair beside is bare,
though the echoes fill the hallway
with the memory of care—
yet the soul was made for dwelling,
never built to live apart;
every step is gently summoned:
open door, open heart.
See the yellow doorway shining
in a sea of midnight blue,
see the stone that marks its promise,
like a vow kept just for you.
Love does not grow dim with seasons,
nor with age will it depart;
it awaits you, warm and patient:
open door, open heart.
So take courage, lonely pilgrim,
though the winter winds are near;
there is solace past the silence,
there is healing for the tear.
Every ending births beginning,
every wound may yet restart;
life eternal whispers softly:
open door, open heart.
