a sonnet. or something like that

so. i was reading romans 8, and it's pretty, ridiculously awesome.  i started writing a poem, and then i thought what i wanted to say would fit well in sonnet form.  at least with a turn at the end.  i'm not sure how it turned out, but here goes nothing...

placed in to total futility.

bound by nature to endless corruption.

lacking any and all sensibility.

groaning full of eager expectation.

afflicted in and out by suffering.

desperate to know the resolution.

always stumbling leading to our crying.

"why?" the unspoken and haunting question.

looking inward further oppresses us.

striving always trying left all but spent.

expectation wells up inside of us,

will the soul say, "into freedom i went?"

hope enters in, the chosen revealed;

to God alone glory attributed.