Nothing of substance

Nothing of substance                                                                      

Dust is existence without blood,

wrote the poet Francis.

Most likely the same thought

in a different language

spoken by Francis the saint. 

As in dust at His feet –

bloodless . . . without spit, too,

without tears, dried up,

crushed, yet breathing, speaking,

doing, thinking – serving the Lord.

Returned to the dust from which

the servant was fashioned

long before the ropes lower him

to his earthly repose; serving the Lord

as a jar of dust holding nothing

of substance – nothing of substance –

only the God-part, the love-essence,

the elusive, ethereal soul.

O child of God, emptiness is completeness

(say the mystics).  Nothing is everything.