by The Rev Anthea Ballam

Give me an empty bowl
That waits to be filled
Holding promise
In this moment
Who knows where to find it?
Hidden behind a beating heart?
Wherever one goes
Lone, alone
Sitting, moving, standing
It is elusive
Who needs it?
Yet without it
There is envy
It is given to those that cannot hear
People of the desert
The mountain priest
Is there anyone, anywhere
That owns such peace?
A dweller alone
In perfect stillness and seclusion
Let us rest in it
Let us cherish it
For it is ours
Yours and mine
In meditation
And for the asking
Bless this silence