*
You you you -- that person
bobbing in the mirror's
current, up then inexorably drawn
down, your own self moister than the water's.
Well they said to me: you own
nothing not even you
and even this particular introspection
will be taken away and rather soon too.
I said then I will give to God
the intention through me intended,
which I wish I'd not distorted
but know that I did.
I will give what's not mine
but that the giving
of my own intention
to give at least is not nothing
if it resonates with what more deeply
exists than I ever could
and if it makes me
a poor relation but still related.
What I have no choice but to give
to God I will give anyway
I will give what I don't have
I will give my nothingness away
I will give that I'm glad
about it. No. What I give
can't even be stated.
It's a nothing there's a lot of.
I am nothing nothing nothing.
In my own what seems this weary demise
I feel myself somehow also expanding
as God fills the room. Or his breath does.
*
