For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit lost in a shaft of sunlight,
Hints followed by guesses; and the rest
Is prayer, observance, discipline,
thought and action.
The hint half guessed, the gift half understood,
is incarnation.
I sit and stare
Into the where
Of within me
At the world of words and sounds and sights,
Peoples and places and empty spaces,
And under it all
A small oasis of Silence
Where time ceases to be
And I am part of eternity.