This is an excerpt from my 'Triptych: Mother-Lover-God' piece. All existential crises worth their salt happen in gardens. I'm not sure why, but they do. Of course the scene is from Mel Gibson's 'The Passion of the Christ' I came across the midnight sermon tapes of the Rev. Jim Jones a few years back. You can hear his jungle madness progressing like some modern-day Kurtz. Slowly but surely he buys his own poster. Shhh...listen to me let my voice caress your demons together we will traverse a river of our own making I can quench your thirsting doubts press your head to my bible I will conjure fresh serpents from its pages see me in the verse (I was prophesied) follow me, drag my beast from this wilderness let me shimmer in the caverns of your heart the past crumbles at our feet like an empty church they are all strangers now my need for you is all you need crouch like a stage they won't believe us. soon you will die for me, and I for you it is the only way to staunch the torrent of our disbelief here, drink this it will make life's spirits go away have I ever lied to you? go ahead, drink. **** I am fastened to You now by a canopy of sin. You heap fresh burdens, each reddening. Before the bloodlet I remember our first walk: