I did all I could

To remain a walled city.

I hardened my heart

Until the still, small voice

Struck stone.

Cloaked in deaf ignorance,

What I did not know

Could not condemn me.

I averted my eyes,

Walking blind

My road to Damascus.

But the fountain

Of living water

Poured over my walls

And softened my heart

Until I heard the small voice.

And when I looked up

To see who it was that spoke,

I saw the holy light

And was drawn in.