* The Wednesday challenge carried me the way of the sonnet
When walls break into my open spaces,
and my pen runs dry as my heart within
blood nor ink could fill infinite vases,
and my heart knows more walls than its own skin.
When I behold, upon culture’s canvas,
beauty of God’s touch and peace of his voice
and think I my never know this surplus
nor have such reason or aim to rejoice!
And when I feel…nothing…of Him this hour
but a distance filled with restricting walls,
my heart feigns for demolishing power.
When from across the distance a Voice calls.
Of this distance I stand alone in scope
of what my pallid heart now knows as hope.