Midnight Garden

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Midnight Garden

Midnight Garden

Come with me.
Come with me,
to the Garden of Gethsemane.
Come with me,
and take my hand.
Here in the garden,
we will walk together
hand in hand.
Come with me,
Come with me,
to the Garden of Gethsemane
I only ask
you open eyes
and do not sleep.
There is no need to speak,
only for a
simple willingness
of feet,
and in your heart,
I will give you rest.

Come with me
Come with me
In a silent midnight prayer
in the stillness
of the midnight air,
as moonlight
illuminates our lines
in this silent Garden
for all time.
And we will not forsake
each others’ moon lit presence,
till just before the early morning breaks.

In the Garden
love
there’s a tree that blossoms,
only once at night,
Both red and white,
And its beauty blossoms down
towards the ground.
I will take you there
And we will water it
with all my flowing blood,
and with all eternal love .

Come with me,
come with me,
to the Garden of Gethsemane
and we will travel,
back to the hanging gardens
Of the East,
And forth to the courtyard gardens
of the West,
And to that wonderous garden
held in by walls
of cedar plank,
where we will finally
be free,
And be at peace,
to wrap our robes
round the fragrant
trees.
Here passion
will be buried deep
And there
will be
only you and I
in purest love
most sweet.

Come with me,
come with me,
and we will see
Jerusalem
from the mountain slope,
and water olive trees,
with crimson sweat and bitter tear, while
resting on a sacrificial altar stone.
Come with me,
come with me,
to the garden
if you can,
for this night only
I am here,
and
All alone a
Man.

Come with me
and contemplate, finally embrace,
the Love that flows
here freely
in the Gardens of Gethsemane
my Love.

And when the time comes,
That we must part,
Hold and remember
I will always be
Set deep in your heart,
Here in the stillness
Of the Gardens of Gethsemane,
My love.

From “Dreams for a Saturday Morning” by PWChaltas

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Rabbi Did You Say

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Rabbi Did You Say

Rabbi Did You Say

Rabbi ,
did you say
you have spoken
with Messiah ,
and that in time
he will come ,
on Ariel’s passing ,
whose brain
now
but a grape
squeezed ,
to dark ink ,
sweet ruddy wine,
long picked
like a saffron rose
from a stem of thorns?
Did you draw the
crosses in your
prayer book ?
In your recitations,
and your songs,
Illuminate us
with his presence,
righteous
transforming lion
of the creator,
as you tell us
of his footsteps
on the plain and
in the dawn ,
overshadowed
by the dark
blossom
of His bosom’s Love.