Endpoem, Colin Oliver

Endpoem
By Colin Oliver
(1946 - )

Given to God,
          the worn sandals of thought
          left at a distant threshold,
one's care is for Him alone
that His care may be for all.

Before Him, in His mystery,
the unclenching
of the fists of knowing --
          the unhanding of all things to Him,
          being in oneself nothing
          and no-one,
          the fool with open palms --
before Him, that one
might happily contain Him.

Being empty and light,
one is God, His all and His love,
held within the light --
          and one sinks as the light
          to God, through God and,
          for His sake, beyond God.

One is
a pebble turned between God's fingers
to be tossed
into the pool of His everlasting clearness
          that His hand might be free.