I’m in this garden
trying hard not to harden
my heart to this task
to this thing that you’ve asked
to this test I took willingly
this quest that’s now killing me
with this dread that’s now filling me.
But my God…
have your will in me.

I’m in this garden
and I’m scared my resolve
is about to dissolve
in these tears that I’m shedding
onto dust that is reddened
by the blood that I’m sweating
‘cos I know where I’m heading.
My time…almost up.
My God…take this cup.

I’m in this garden
and I’m begging for your pardon
from this fate that awaits
from this desert of hate.
Will I bloom like the rose again?
Did you say that I’ll rise again?
My accuser. He tries again.
An ending has now begun
My God…
your will be done.

I’m in this garden
remembering an apple tree
from old Jewish mythology
the most profound analogy
of things that should
and should not be.

The choices people make.
The liberties they take.
The loyalties they fake.
The promises they break.

My death, the cost of sin?
My God, it is.
I’m in…