Poetry

The Presence

In the monstrance you never move. You await, free of time’s embrace the day that is to come when we, sated on sacrifice and love, will be taken from time and free of all the constraints of space. There will be no more time to waste as we do; wherever we are is equidistant from you, the single moment that will last. It is we who should be still, all our cares hushed while we dwell on you: let our love be focussed; grant us the poverty of prayer.

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