last station

I give it all up to you

the grey, the blue, and the yellow too

and as I do my person unravels

and turns this life into a prayer for you.

A prayer that I be dissolved so fully

by the light your divine grace,

be there nothing left of ‘me’,

not even the slightest trace.

You show me death while still alive,

is the highest form of liberation,

how the bird flies free and high

above the train who reaches last station.