The Builder

A small opening through which light pours down
and at times, floods, and fear is struck, for those
who hide yet still seek for love have nothing
to lose or give, yet know a heart demands

a price for light, for shadows illumined;
a poorly thatched roof that must be torn
asunder, a porch rebuilt, and a pathway laid.
Yet where does light fall, but on a heart in shade?

On unkept doorsteps, where feet do not tread.
On windows closed, yet hinges broken, that those
who know a builder's trade might break the locks
and tear down walls, all rooms laid open.

Is there space enough for a shaft of light? Oh heart,
hold strong, but don't close too tight.