And it was night.

And it was night when they left their warm abode,
the remnants of a final meal.
a chill of fear entering each watchfull traveller
as through shadowed streets they walked a silent walk.

Yes he was with them but seemed a man apart,
engrossed in something somehow close at hand,
which only he could fully contemplate or comprehend.

Beyond the ancient walls
where cultured olive groves held sway

Jesus stopped and prayed,
pleaded with his Father
while his disciples slept,
dreaming of times gone by.

Was it the food, or unknown thoughts of horror
thet brought on sleep where he cried out in agony?
And that was when they came
to hustle him away,
and it was night.