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.