The Voice by Audrey Ward

Hands trace the vivid colors of violets,

picked by the hands of god.

Love permeates through them,

as they place divine creation.

They see what we do not,

yet the puffs of cloud remain within our sight.

The sun, a testament to our devotion,

not vengeful, not forgiving.

Vines grow throughout the world,

through their own conception.

Trapped within sacred life,

God stays to comfort invention.