The Last Supper

today I feel a heaviness
that I want to carry,
without understanding
or even naming -
not for you,
not for the world
you gave yourself to,
but for myself;

today I want to feel
and drink the heaviness
as I look into your eyes,
to see you raise the cup
of sweet wine
flowing from the hearts
of your fellow men,
poured into their work;

today I want to feel
and taste the heaviness
as I touch your form,
to watch you break the bread
with the fullness and largeness
of a universe in a universe,
living for and feeding on
a billion blazing suns;

only today, can I sit with you
across the same table,
to feast on life -
yours and mine,
and come to understand
what it is to serve
and to be served
by Life.