There might have been other uses for this moment;
There might have been other pleasures;
There might have been rest,
But there is something beyond all this which we must seek.
And except I give it time and attention
It may never come to flower.
It is a yearning for meaning for which the tongue has yet no words.
It is a quest for holiness.
It is a quest for self-forgiveness
For all the things wherein I have failed myself
In failing others:
The light I have ignored;
The plea of the spirit, rejected;
The meaning still to be found,
Peace in a world of conflict, and still something more.
It is something only sensed in moments of quiet and solitude
Or in the shared meditations of others
Who seek with me.
Perhaps, perhaps it is myself,
Now so buried under the demands and pressures of the world
That it may only be found as I take time to let it grow.

(R. Weston, “Take Time To Listen”)

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