This is my poetic take on Jesus' time in the Garden of Gethsemane before his arrest - a time, I reckon, during which His struggle and the resulting pain dwarf that which the Roman guards inflicted on Him - JF
Leaves curling; uncurl while sway,
Rustling and rustle in the wind.
Worms under, burrow louder, and
Crickets rise and creep willy-nilly;
Bleep! Bleep! Then chirping a chirp.
Night’s sun rush to beam a gleam,
And a portrait rays form.
Thoughts flip through pages of a life,
Tallying all achievements in flashes.
No man who was human,
No mammal that’s an animal,
Bother to wander there.
A man, he and himself,
And worms, crickets and leaves.
Breaths burst into steam
And gleam in passing rays.
As perspiration disperses
And gather on the ground
A glittering puddle forms
In which a journey thence previews.
Winds stumble then leaves rumble
Like angry waves breaking pebbles,
Troubled thoughts did more breaking.
Emotions! Seep thru’ gentle eyes.
Night’s eyes shut!
Wind’s hiss recedes!
Who'd have courage to watch?
But when t’was time,
A gentle calm settles over Peter
And presides at the Skull Mountain rituals.