The last quarter of the moon

of Jesus gives way

to the dark…

Religion is over

and what will emerge from the body

of the new moon, no one

can say.

But a voice sounds

in my ear: Why so fast,

mortal? These very seas

are baptized. The parish

has a saint’s name time cannot

unfrock. In cities that

have outgrown their promise people

are becoming pilgrims

again, if not to this place,

then to the recreation of it

in their own spirits. You must remain

kneeling. Even as this moon

making its way through the earth’s

cumbersome shadow, prayer, too,

has its phases.

R.S. Thomas (1913-2000), ‘The moon in Llyn’, Laboratories of the spirit, 1975.