The meaning is in the waiting.

Moments of great calm,
Kneeling before an altar
Of wood in a stone church
In summer, waiting for the God
To speak; the air a staircase
For silence; the sun’s light
Ringing me, as though I acted
A great role.  And the audiences
Still; all that close throng
of spirits waiting, as I,
For the message.

Prompt me, God;
But not yet.  When I speak,
Though it be you who speak
Through me, something is lost.
The meaning is in the waiting.

(Selected Poems, R. S. Thomas, 1946-1968)

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