Gethsemane

Holy Father and God, present ever around,
My sweat is like blood falling down to the ground.
The cup given to Me, Your power can take away,
But, without passing through death, is unnatural to raise,
As, without being born, is unearthly to die.
Behold the Cross-! tree seeded to be crucified
on body and blood, wine and bread.
The unborn pain hurts me, as the kiss I did not yet receive.
I am strangled by the cross on which I am not yet crucified.
The crown made of thorns hurts Me too
before it was seeded.
Why do I pray when the scriptures speak the fate of Your Son?
I should rather say: Let Your will, then, be done.

Virgiliu Pop
22 April 2002, Timisoara