What will I have when I come to the end of myself?
Nothing,
except all I’ve given away.
Not, tossed to the four winds
for others to scrape off the sidewalk,
pluck out of the trees,
or dig out from under.
No, what will be is
what I have left with others.
Given to those
who might enjoy it,
who need it,
who deserve it.
These are my eternity.
Who are these?
Eternal Father, let me see these.