Poem: The Rest of It

The Rest of It

There is only this,
that is all 
that I can do,
is my contribution,
but the rest
is needed, still,
if it is to be,
if it is not
to remain
unfinished,
to only wait.
The rest
must come,
is required,
and it is nothing
that I can bring,
is not for me
to bring.
It would do no good.
It is necessary,
but I cannot,
by that same necessity,
I cannot.  It is the way of it.
It does not change
that the rest is needed, though,
that without it 
all I have done
is just the effort,
is nothing else
but the exertion itself,
a using up,
a wasting.

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