Gethesemane

I walk through
into my own private
garden of Gethsemane.
Shining light emanates,
as barren toes touch sacred soil.
Sitting silently
I pray and
sooth my worrisome soul.
The enriched flowers about
smell of Napalm breath.
Clutching the miniscule of my possesions,
I discover a tree, or is it a vine?
Dripping & saturated
with bloodied grapes,
it stands, as a prize
in this ironic place.
Curiously I’m seduced
to drink this bewitched brew.
My quench is thirsted
as my bowels warm
with new found juices.
Dark clouds set across
the rainbow atmosphere,
Splashes heard,
tears drip from a forgiving God.
A pond of lilies & finn
fill quickly.
Seeing my true me in chopped perfection .
I sit & linger, try to decipher chaos.
Learning of a great harvest
in the northern place,
I go there.
Taking up a loaf of yeast
and fin of purity,
a horse whinnies my name
and I can levitate.
Taken to “Avalonea”
upon a fire burst.