Prelude to a Fantasy

Startled, my body quivering,
My entrails shook.
My palms drenched in sweat,
I touched my face.
No doubt, it was I.
I am certain it was I.
But,
Who was he?

He came to me, arms extended.
I recall the tenderness,
Frail smile that fell upon my countenance.
It was I.
This much I am certain of…
It was I.

Cold sweat flowed from my forehead,
Trickling down my arms.
I drenched my bedsheet.

Who was he?
A phantasm in the dark?
We met in a garden, I recall,
Our surroundings, they…
Hostile they were.

We entered a warm, dry cave.
This much I recollect.
The crevice in the Earth shielded us
From the chilly dew.

He said to the three men that sat next to me:
“Stay awake, Peter, James… John,
Stay awake… I pray that I may be saved from my destiny.”
The three slept instead.

Upon returning to the cave,
On three occasions,
This I remember,
The frail man stared at me.
I was certain it was I,
For he directed his tenderness into my eyes.
He shook his head, gently,
As if to say:
“I know you well.”

His stare burned my eyes, and…
As a guilty Adam I, my body weighed me down.
I could not move,
I froze, speechless.

It was I.
I am certain it was I, for
In the next few minutes armed men
Came and took the stranger away.
Through the struggle,
He stared at me,
Like a criminal I.
Like a coward, indeed.

So, it came to pass that I awoke,
Startled, trembling, short of breath,
Fearing for my life.

In the morning,
At first light,
When my pupils were filled with light,
Rays of the dilating sun,
I wondered what injury I may have suffered
While I slept, for
My sheets were covered with blood,
My forehead cut to threads,
My soul weighed down with guilt.

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