Pause.

Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer’s end. In time’s maze
over fall fields, we name names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed’s marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.
Wendell Berry. ‘What We Need is Here.”

This place where you are right now God circled on a map for you. Wherever your eyes and arms and heart can move against the earth and the sky, The Beloved has bowed there – knowing you were coming.
Hafiz. From “This Place Where You Are Right Now.”