Take the Time

A star hung in the sky like a lonely lamp in a widow’s window. The air was cooler now, and fresh with a wind off the western mountains. The horses stirred restlessly, eager to be off, so seeing nothing, I turned my face eastward and rode away toward the coming night.

Behind me the sky was weirdly lit, a magnificent sunset with clouds tinted rose and red, with golden arrows shot upward by the archer of the sun. Sometimes I looked back, but not only to see if I was followed. In part I looked toward the setting sun because terror may ride with beauty, and a man needs to milk his hours of the precious things.

To ride fast, to travel far, these were empty things unless a man took the time to savor, to taste, to love, to simply be.

Kearney McRaven
The Proving Trail, Louis L’Amour