Whole cloth

Whole cloth                                                                       
 
I rub my nose on the carpet before Your chair.
How long before the fabric shreds
 
and the stone gives way?  How long
before I sink into the dust below?
 
That celebrated widow put her two cents
into the temple treasury. 
 
Jesus extolled her faith and generosity –
it was all she had!  I’m worth two cents! 
 
Yet, I can’t seem to part with myself!
O child, not the quality, nor quantity of the gift,
 
He’s concerned with –
but, the commitment, the abandonment,
 
the whole cloth, full measure,
draining of the cup to the last drop.
 
O child of God, Your Beloved quotes the poet –
“Hafiz, remove thyself for thou art the veil.”