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.