Nothing is Lost – Sonnet XXVIII

Encompass All my Thoughts in twists of Heaven
And Rain upon this Life with Blessings Pure,
For As Blessings from Your Grace, through my hand, Leaven,
From this Foundation Pouring, Endless and Sure.
Though mortal Sight can conjure Art and wit contrive,
This Purpose to Fulfill my weakened state,
As with my weakness, through Your Blessings, Strive
To Touch the Heart of anguish, guilt or hate.
For by this Mercy Pouring from Your Gentle Hand,
Through this poor vessel, cracked and desperate frayed,
When such can Share such Wealth to Comprehend,
Nothing is lost when losing might Find those strayed.
Thus Stand upon these Words and Beauty Spilling,
Your Blessing to Display, this Vessel Ever Filling.

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original artwork by: danchristopher