Host

Based on my experience during a period of Adoration of the Sacred Host while on retreat with the Chemin Neuf Community in Storrington, West Sussex.

Within the monstrance
The host is exposed
In adoration
By all who attend
Sitting or kneeling
Perpetual gaze
Or in silent prayer
The beauty beheld
So near yet so far
And out of one's reach
Except for the priest
To expose and bless
With the sacred host.
Yet what do I see,
Halfway through the time
Of Adoration
With the monstrance placed
Straight on the altar
Neither to the right 
Neither to the left
But placed straight ahead
Out of my sightline
From where I am sat?
I now see the host,
It no longer seems
To be straight ahead
But in my sightline
Demanding my gaze,
My full attention.
I sense a strangeness
A discomfort slight,
I try to adjust
My sightline to see
If any change comes
To bring the host back
To where it once was
Or so seemed to be.
My gaze is transfixed
From then, until when
The priest raises up
The monstrance and host
In benediction
After which we leave 
That most sacred space.
My thoughts still turning
Around in my head
As if there could be
The slightest meaning
To what I had seen
And experienced.
I may never know
But yet there may come
An explanation 
Of that sacred time.
A future blessing
Or a demand for
Total commitment
To the Saviour dear.
Perhaps both or just one
But it matters not,
I'll leave it to God
To show me in time
His truth and His way
And that will suffice.